


In Her Dreams They Were Monsters

by whutnot



Category: Claymore (Anime & Manga)
Genre: But are they?, F/F, Hallucinations, Modern AU, Talk of mental illness, au with a twist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23706529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whutnot/pseuds/whutnot
Summary: Irene can't say what it is about Teresa that draws her in, but she knows she is going to find out. As they get closer, Irene starts to wonder if there is something more going on, or if she's starting to lose her mind.
Relationships: Irene/Teresa (Claymore)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of a story I originally posted on ff.net under the same author name. The original title was "The Story of You and Me." That fic was abandoned years ago, but I am bringing it back with a new twist.

She sighed and pressed the call button on her desk. “Flora, cancel my two o’clock on Monday.”

“ _Of course, Ms. Winters,_ ” came the reply.

Irene leaned back in her chair, kicking off her pumps. She really needed more time to finish running the numbers on the Brown account, but she had the Gala. She only hoped that she would have enough time the next week to prepare the presentation. She sat back up and pressed the call button again.

“Actually, Flora, what else do I have Monday that I can reschedule?

“ _You have an interview with Forbes and lunch with Dante from publishing_.”

“I’ve already cancelled on Forbes twice,” she mused. “They won’t run the article at all if I cancel again. Call Dante’s assistant, and send my regrets.”

“ _Of course, Ms. Winters_.”

Irene pulled the Brown account out, and began crunching the numbers, pausing every so often to sit up and pop her back. Her chiropractor loved this time of year. Hours spent in her desk chair translated into more sessions for him. 

After what seemed like only a few minutes, she looked at her clock and was startled to see that it was already close to five. She grimaced and told Flora that she could go home. Picking up her briefcase and slipping her feet back into her shoes, she strode out of her office, saying a quick goodbye to the few people who were still working. Most of her staff usually left early on Fridays if they could, which Irene allowed. Her people worked hard, and they deserved to spend time with their families. Just because she had no one at home did not mean that she was not aware of the difficulties of balancing a career and a family. She liked to think that her understanding had given her good rapport with her employees.

When she emerged onto the street, the doorman already had a cab waiting for her. 

“Thank you, Edward,” she said.

“You have the Gala tonight, Ms. Winters?” he asked as he opened the door for her.

“Yes,” she sighed. “I’ll have to mingle with all those airheaded celebrities the board insisted on inviting.”

“I heard Teresa Blackwell will be there this year,” Edward ventured.

Irene resisted the urge to sigh again. “Yes. I swear, just because she moved to New York from L.A. and brought a bit of media attention to the Foundation…” She shook her head, annoyed. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be the classiest lady there,” Edward assured her.

Irene managed a small smile. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.” She slipped into the cab and gave Edward a last nod as she shut the door behind her. During the ride, she calculated just how long she had to make herself presentable, having second--or was it third--thoughts about the dress she picked. It looked so good in the store, but she feared that when she stood next to these celebrities, it would not live up to the image she had in her mind. 

Irene rubbed her brow, angry at her foolishness. It did not matter what she looked like. This wasn’t about her. It was about her charity, her cause. She had started it when she was fresh out of business school, and it had grown steadily since then. Now that she was in such a good position at her firm, she had the resources to give it the attention it deserved. Which in turn meant that she had been forced to set up the board of trustees, who made decisions sometimes regardless of her feelings. Like inviting celebrities and influencers to the annual Gala. 

The cab pulled up in front of her townhouse, and she paid the driver before getting out and heading inside. She debated whether or not she should make something to eat before she got dressed, knowing there would be food at the event. She also knew that she would have to mix and mingle and make infuriatingly meaningless small talk with the guests. She more than likely wouldn’t have time to eat once there. 

Irene glanced at herself in the mirror and frowned. She was thin, but in an athletic way. She had been a runner all through high school and college, and she still tried to run whenever she could. It always felt like she could eat as much as she wanted and never gain any weight, though she rarely had an appetite. Her mother had always worried about her, but Irene had never been able to gain the weight her mother wanted. She was all hip bones and shoulder blades, tall and lanky and gawky, and she always felt judged when she ate in front of other people. 

So she popped a frozen meal into the microwave. She was usually too tired to cook for herself, and the thought of a personal chef for just one person seemed excessively wasteful to her. There were much better things she could do with her money.

While the timer counted down, Irene kicked off her shoes and removed her suit, hanging it carefully in the closet to be taken to the dry cleaners. She threw her blouse in the hamper and sat down on the bed to take off her hose. The microwave beeped just as she pulled on a t-shirt, and she ate quickly, knowing that she needed plenty of time to do her hair and make up. She knew she could have hired a hair and make up team, but she tried to keep at least one foot grounded. Through her inheritance and her salary, she knew she could easily fall prey to the temptations of easy living. Her father certainly had. But Irene had always made it her goal to prove to him that she could run a successful firm while still paying her employees a generous wage, while still giving money to reputable charities for more than just a tax break, still supporting legislation that would tax her even further. What was the point of having money and power and influence if she did not use them to try and better the world?

Two hours later, she cocked her head to the side, her long earrings brushing her bare shoulders. The dress looked good. Pleasantly surprisingly good. Dark blue and strapless, it hugged her torso, defining her waist before floating away at her hips. She had her hair pulled up into a sweeping twist on the back of her head, exposing her ears. She supposed there was nothing to be done for it. When she was younger, she had contemplated having surgery to correct the genetic condition that caused them to grow elven points. Her nickname in school had been “Mrs. Spock.” By now, she was almost immune to the stares, and the people who mattered most to her did not even look twice at them. 

She gave herself one last appraising look before heading down to meet the cab she had called, her heels clicking on the hard floor. 

She was one of the first to arrive at the event, not wanting to get caught up in the throngs of people on the red carpet. It was non-negotiable with the number of celebrities that had been invited. Unenthusiastically, she posed for pictures, though she was fairly certain her picture would not be featured in any of the mainstream magazines. She did, however, give her practiced spiel about the Foundation and why she had started it. The one benefit of the red carpet was the exposure it brought them. 

As she was approaching the last reporter, she heard an excited uproar behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she suppressed a groan. The cause of the ruckus was none other than Teresa Blackwell, smiling charmingly at all the photogs. Irene had seen her enough in movies and on the covers of magazines to recognize her, and was dismayed to see that she was even more stunningly beautiful in person. Her long, black hair fell in cascades around her shoulders, and she wore a dark green gown that hugged her curves. If Irene had not been so irritated by her presence, she would have very much enjoyed the view. As it was, she turned back to the reporter to give her last soundbite before heading inside.

Irene mingled as she was expected to, talking to the right people, making sure to give attention to the most valued donors. When she was about to take a seat out of the way, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Teresa Blackwell smiling at her. 

“Irene Winters?” 

Her voice sent wonderful little shivers down Irene’s spine. It was low and smooth and sensual, and it hit at a spot under Irene’s ribs that made her head spin and her stomach lurch, and for a moment, Irene had an overwhelming, inexplicable urge to hold her tight and never let go. Because it had been _so long_ \--

But the moment passed in a fraction of a second, and Irene carefully schooled her features into a calm mask even as her hand trembled. Perhaps she needed to move up her next appointment with her psychiatrist. Something might be off with her medication. It had been a very long time since something like that had happened. 

Realizing Teresa was still waiting for a response, Irene cleared her throat, hoping she had not reacted visibly. “Yes?”

“Teresa Blackwell.” Teresa stuck out her hand, which Irene reluctantly took, worried that her own still shook. 

As their skin touched, somewhere in the back of her head, she heard distant memories of screams and blood and death, and she had to focus on keeping her breaths even and steady. 

Teresa’s grip was surprisingly firm, her hand soft and elegant. Through her rising panic, Irene noticed that Teresa was as tall as she was, even in heels, towering over most everyone else. It seemed, though, that Teresa did not notice anything wrong. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she was saying, her voice enthusiastic. It held none of the false niceties of other actors Irene had met. It was warm and genuine. “I’ve admired your work for several years now. Well, your work with charity, that is. I’m afraid I don’t have much of a head for business.” 

She smiled that beautiful, charming smile of hers, and Irene had to hold back sudden and sharp tears.

“Oh, well...thank you,” she somehow managed. “It is a cause that is very dear to me.” 

Irene needed to get out of there. Now. Before she made a complete fool of herself. 

“Yes. It needs more attention. I understand your mother had it.”

Irene nodded, her throat refusing to speak.

“I understand,” Teresa continued, taking Irene’s shining eyes to be a result of her pain over her mother’s death. “My sister, well, she died when I was young, and when I found out about your Foundation, I knew I needed to use what publicity I could to try and help. Of course, I know that what I do is nothing to the work you put into it, but I try.”

Through her haze, Irene could tell that Teresa was different from the usual guests at the gala. She still spoke in that practice, rehearsed, gushy way that Irene had come to associate with celebrities, but there was something else behind it. An intelligence in her eyes, a sincerity in her words, and Irene knew with a certainty she could not explain that this was not the first time they had met. 

Which was, of course, impossible. 

“We appreciate any support we can get,” she croaked out. “Excuse me. I’m sorry, but I need to find the restroom.” 

She slipped away, hurrying to the nearest bathroom. She was in luck, as it was empty, and she made her way to the first stall, retching into the toilet. Her stomach heaved again, and again until there was nothing left, and still it heaved once more. When she was certain she was done, she stood, faint and wobbly, leaning against the stall. She pulled out her phone and set a reminder to call her psychiatrist in the morning. Something was very very off. The last time she’d had hallucinations had been years and years ago.

As soon as she felt her legs could support her, she made her way to the sink and rinsed out her mouth, popping a breath mint. She would call a cab and head home. Hopefully, her board could take care of schmoozing the donors. 

“Are you all right?”

She jumped and turned to see Teresa standing at the door, brows knitted in concern. 

“Ah, yes. I think so,” she lied. “I always forget alcohol doesn't agree with my medication.” 

Yes, that must be the answer. Sure, it had never caused her to hallucinate and vomit, but it was a rational explanation for her entirely irrational reaction. 

“I’m not a fan of all this.” She waved her hand vaguely. “Not much of a people person. I may have had more to drink than I should have.” Except she’d only had one drink, and she felt stone-cold sober. 

“Well, I’d been planning on offering you a drink,” Teresa said. “But maybe a club soda instead?” If she was curious about what medication Irene was on, she did not ask. 

“Thank you, but I should probably go home.” Before her embarrassment actually registered. Already, she wished she could sink into the ground.

“That’s a shame,” Teresa mused. “I’d wanted to get to know you a little more. I’m new to the city, and I was hoping to make some connections tonight.”

“You should stay. There are plenty of celebrities here,” Irene said, hoping the bitterness in her voice did not shine through. 

“I had plenty of those in L.A. I’d hoped to get away from that here.”

Irene kept her eyes firmly on the bathroom mirror, diligently fixing her makeup, diligently not looking at Teresa. Diligently ignoring the echoes of clashing metal that rang in her ears. “I’m sorry I’m not of more help. I only do these things because it’s what’s best for the Foundation. I’d rather be working.”

“Sounds tedious,” Teresa said. Irene wished she would just leave. “Do you work a lot of weekends?”

“I do.” What else did she have to do? Putting the finishing touches on her lipstick, she finally turned her eyes to the woman who would not take a hint. Teresa stood with her arms crossed, head tilted to the side. God, she was gorgeous. “Especially this time of year.”

“I can’t imagine the work that goes into this.”

“Yes. It’s quite a lot.” The ringing in her ears was finally starting to fade, and her stomach had stopped rolling. 

“It makes what I do seem so frivolous.”

“Providing escapism isn’t frivolous,” Irene murmured, still uneasy. “Not now, especially.”

“Maybe so.” Teresa sighed. “I really had hoped to talk to you more, but it looks like you’re about to keel over. Let me call my driver.”

Irene shook her head, then immediately regretted it as her vision blurred. “No, it’s fine. I’ll catch a cab.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, thank you.” She straightened her dress. Before she left, she would have to speak to the head of the board. Give some sort of explanation. 

“Can I give you my number?”

Irene frowned. “I suppose.” Confused, she handed over her phone so that Teresa could put in her number.

“Give me a call when you’re feeling better. I want to be more involved with the Foundation.”

Nodding, Irene took back her phone, slipping it into her clutch. 

“I will.”

With a final nod to Teresa, she made her way back into the ballroom, quickly finding the director of the board. She feigned a stomach flu, apologizing profusely until he waved her off. As the relief washed over her, she trotted down the steps outside, heedless of the crisp fall air. 

She slept restlessly that night. In the morning, she could not quite remember her dreams, but she knew they had been violent and dark. And she was fairly certain Teresa had played a large role. It annoyed her greatly that she could not stop thinking about their encounter the night before. It was unlike her to dwell so much on someone she just met, even someone as beautiful as Teresa Blackwell. 

The rest of the weekend, she poured herself into closing the Brown account and forgot all about Teresa’s number. She called her psychiatrist on Monday, managing to get an appointment the next day. They adjusted her medication, and even though it would take time to fully integrate into her system, she did not have any more nightmares or hallucinations. She could deal with the stiffness, the restlessness, the dry mouth, the libido suppression that came as a side effect as long as her head was clear. It was a guessing game, anyway. Her psychiatrist had never been able to give her a solid diagnosis for her hallucinations. Her brain function was typical as far as her neurologist was concerned. There was no physical reason, no tumor or trauma. Her symptoms did not fit the typical mental disorders. But, the antipsychotics helped, and that was what mattered. 

It was the next week when Flora called into her office.

“ _There’s a woman on line two asking for you, Ms. Winters_.”

Irene frowned. That was a private line. Very few people knew that number. “Who is it?”

“ _She says she’s Teresa Blackwell_ .” Flora sounded skeptical. “ _Should I tell her you’re out_?”

“No,” Irene said, surprised. “Put her through.” She picked up her phone when Flora transferred the call, taking a deep breath. “Irene Winters.” She winced as soon as the words left her mouth. It sounded formal, haughty. Teresa was not one of her business associates. 

“ _You never called me_.” Teresa’s voice held a playful lift, and Irene could almost imagine her bottom lip pouting.

“I was busy,” she replied, hoping it did not sound dismissive. Despite whatever was happening in her head, Teresa could be a valuable ally for the Foundation. She needed to foster this relationship.

“ _I’m sure. But I got tired of waiting, so I called you instead_.”

“How did you get this number?” Irene could count on one hand the number of people who had it.

“ _I have my ways_ .” There was a pause on the other end. “ _Am I overstepping_?”

Irene was surprised by the hesitation in the question. “No,” she answered carefully. I’m glad you called, actually.”

“ _Really?_ ”

“Yes.” She started when she realized the words were actually true. Something in her settled nicely at Teresa’s voice, so different from the last time she’d heard it. Peace. “It gives me a nice break from work.” 

“ _I’m not interrupting anything, am I_?”

“No.” Irene leaned back in her chair. She glanced at the door. Flora knew not to let anyone in if she had it shut. Today, she had wanted peace and quiet to crunch numbers. “I’m just going over a new account.”

“ _Don’t you have underlings for that?_ ”

“I like to lead by example,” Irene explained. “I can’t ask them to do anything I’m not also willing to do.”

“ _I see._ ” Teresa sounded impressed. “ _Well, I called because I was wondering if maybe you’d like to get drinks with me Friday night_ .” She sounded nervous, not at all like the confident woman Irene had met. “ _I know this great place that has the best martinis_ .” Irene heard a small gasp. “ _Aw, damn. I forgot you’re not supposed to drink. I’m sorry. They have food, too. Good food._ ”

Irene thought about it for a moment. There was really no reason not to. She wanted to see what this woman was about, and she had nothing better to do on a Friday night except work. It had been a long time since she had gone out. Even if this was a business meeting. 

“I would like that, yes,” she said after a while. “What’s the address?”

“ _I can pick you up_ ,” Teresa said hopefully, as if she would prefer it that way. Irene frowned. That was certainly not typical of a business meeting. Teresa must have sensed her hesitation. “ _Or not. That’s okay._ ”

Irene, suddenly worried she had offended Teresa, cut in. “No, that’s fine. Cutting down on carbon emissions, and all that.”

“ _Exactly_ .” Teresa’s sparkling laugh sent flutters through her heart. “ _Should I pick you up at, say, seven?_ ”

“That sounds good.” Irene did not realize she was smiling until she caught her reflection in the window. “I um, I’ll see you Friday, then.”

“ _Can I have your cell number, at least?_ ”

“Oh, right. Yes.” She rattled off the numbers, listening as Teresa repeated each of them as she wrote them down. “Got it?”

“ _Yep. Okay, then. I’ll let you get back to work. See you later._ ”

“Bye.” She hung up the phone and glanced at the clock as nervousness welled inside her. Was this a date? The more she thought about it, the less it felt like a business meeting. Teresa had suggested drinks first. And they were meeting at seven. What was this about? Just getting to know people in the city, like Teresa had said at the gala? Or more than that? She sucked up her courage and pressed the call button. “Flora? Can you come in here for a moment?”

“ _Of course._ ” Seconds later, her door opened, and Flora stepped inside.

“Shut the door, please, and have a seat.” Her assistant obeyed, looking nervous. Irene put on what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Relax, it’s nothing bad. I have a more personal matter to discuss.”

“Oh, all right.” Flora was surprised, which was understandable. In the three years she had worked for Irene, she had not once been called into the office for anything other than company matters. “Um, what can I help you with?”

“If I were to go to dinner with someone, would that be considered a date?”

Flora blinked at her a few times before regaining her senses, her eyes widening, her mouth forming a small ‘O.’ “Is this about Teresa Blackwell?”

“That’s not important.” Irene grimaced.

“Well...I think it could go either way. Is she picking you up?”

“Yes.”

“She’s always been rumored to be interested in women, but nothing concrete,” Flora contemplated. “She’s also not known to be excessively social. If she’s called you up to go out, it could very well be a date.”

“This is strictly between us,” Irene warned. The last thing she needed was to be splashed all over the tabloids.

“Of course, Ms. Winters.” She knew she could trust Flora. “But...no, nevermind.”

“What is it?”

“It’s just that...Teresa Blackwell is always followed by the paparazzi. I’ll do my best to keep you out of the gossip columns, but...if this is more than just dinner...I’m only human.”

“Thank you, Flora.” Irene ruminated on her assistant’s words. “I appreciate the concern. I don’t even know if this is anything more than dinner. This really could just be her wanting to make friends. Still, make sure nothing gets leaked from this office.”

“Of course, I would never…”

“I know,” she assured Flora. “Just covering my bases.”

“Ms. Winters?”

“Yes?”

“You should wear your hair down,” Flora ventured. “You won’t want to look too formal.”

Irene let her hand run over her red hair. “Yes, what does one wear to dinner with an Oscar-nominated actress?”

“Jeans?”

Irene managed a smile as she shook her head. “All right, thank you, Flora. I appreciate your help and your discretion.”

Flora recognized the dismissal and rose with a nod. Irene was determined to give bonuses this year, even if they had to come out of her own salary. Flora went above and beyond, and Irene was going to do what it took to keep her around. 

It was after six when she finally headed home. Her cell buzzed while she was in the cab, and she looked down to see Teresa’s name.

“Hello?”

“ _Just making sure you didn’t give me a phony number._ ”

Irene suppressed an unwanted smile, not liking the way her insides twisted in pleasure. “Did you really think I would do that?”

“ _Not really,_ ” Teresa said, chuckling. “ _But I did forget to get your address. You’re done with work, right? I don’t want to take you away from anything importan_ t.”

“I’m on my way home now, actually.” It should have bothered her more, how comfortable she felt talking with Teresa. “I did want to ask you, though. Is this dinner about the Foundation, or is it personal?”

The pause on the other end stretched just a little too long, and Teresa’s voice was soft, contemplative when she answered. “ _I had hoped it would be more personal_.”

Irene’s heart skipped. “A date?”

“ _If that’s all right with you._ ”

“So you are into women?” It seemed the rumors were true.

“ _I’m bi_ .” Divorced with a kid, if Irene recalled correctly. “ _I don’t really date much. But I like you._ ”

“Why? I threw up when we met.”

Teresa chuckled. “ _And I had hoped that had nothing to do with me._ ”

Irene was at a loss for words. It had everything to do with Teresa, and she wondered if she was playing with fire here. “I um…”

“ _Oh...It did have to do with me?_ ”

“No, no. It was my medication,” Irene covered quickly. “All better now. It was just poor timing.”

“ _I’m glad. Because I think you’re beautiful and smart, and so much more interesting than anyone I’ve met in a long time._ ”

“I’ll have to scrounge around for something to wear,” Irene said, glad that Teresa could not see her blush. She had an image to protect, after all. Somehow, she found herself telling Teresa about the accounts she had been working on, hoping it wasn’t too boring. But Teresa seemed rapt. She even asked intelligent and informed questions, which Irene answered with growing delight. She was back home, sitting at her kitchen table an hour later when they finally hung up. 

That night, she dreamed of a cabin in the mountains, nestled by a lake. She dreamed of a young woman with an unquenchable fire in her heart. She dreamed of a winged demon.

And she knew that somehow it all led back to Teresa. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to post once a week for this. Also, big shout out to my beta reader, shelter! Thank you for pushing me to cut unnecessary filler.

Irene sat at her kitchen table after agonizing over what to wear for far too long. She hated that she cared. The old her wouldn’t have cared. The old her wore ridiculous leather straps that served no purpose. Frustrated, Irene tossed her head, shaking away the thought. 

Teresa had said seven. It was six twenty. 

After an eternity, her phone rang, and she answered it hurriedly. “Hello?”

“Hey. I’m outside your building. Are you ready?” 

“Just about.” So she didn’t seem too eager. 

“Okay, well hurry up. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.” 

“I’m on my way down.” She shoved her phone in her purse and trotted down the stairs and into the crisp night air. 

Teresa was waiting for her at the curb, leaning against the hood of a black sports car. She was wearing jeans that looked just as good as Irene had imagined. Her hair was pulled back, exposing her slim neck, and Irene felt her breath catch in her throat.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” Teresa smiled and pushed herself off the car. “Ready?”

“I didn’t expect you to drive yourself.”

“I’m not a diva,” Teresa said with a raised brow and an amused smirk. “Let’s get going.” She opened the passenger side for Irene and ushered her in.

“I was half expecting a herd of paparazzi,” Irene admitted.

Teresa grimaced. “It’s not unheard of.” She sighed tiredly. “I know it’s part of the deal, but, it can be really fucking weird to have people follow you all the time. But they’re actually a lot better here than in L.A. Something about New Yorkers. They don’t really care who you are.”

Irene nodded. That much was true. Her ears rarely garnered her much attention on the streets. And if she thought about it, Teresa had not mentioned them at all, either. Her eyes had not lingered. 

“Well, I’m glad they didn’t show up.” Irene looked out the window as they drove. She wondered where Teresa was going to park her car as they started to get caught in uptown traffic. “I’m not one to have my personal life spread all over the magazines.”

Teresa pursed her lips and glanced over. “Irene,” she began slowly. “I do my best to keep my personal life out of the press, and I think I’ve done pretty well with my daughter, but you should know going into this that a….a relationship of any kind with me, no matter how casual or how serious, even just a friendship, is going to get attention. If you can’t handle that, then I might as well turn around and take you back home now.” 

Irene knew this decision was weighty. She also knew that the thought of never seeing Teresa again tore at her heart in a way that made no sense to her at all. 

“I know it’s not fair to ask that of you,” Teresa continued, “but I wanted to be up front about it. So that you’re prepared. I’ve never dated a woman before, so if we go that route, it’s bound to cause a stir. Are you okay with that? Because I really do like you.”

“I won’t lie,” Irene replied. “It’s not something I would want for myself. I’m only in the public eye enough to get donors for the Foundation. But…I can’t imagine going home now.”

“I’m really glad to hear that, Irene.” Teresa smiled at her before looking out the window and pulling up to the curb in front of a small, sleepy looking bar. 

“This is not what I was expecting,” Irene said, surveying the establishment.

“Oh?” Teresa sounded intrigued. “And what were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. Something swanky. Or maybe more of a club.”

“I haven’t really been a clubber since I had Clare.” 

Her daughter.

“No, I suppose having a child wouldn’t lend itself to that lifestyle.” Irene wanted to ask what the girl was doing now while her mother was out, but she did not think that was her place. 

“I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” Teresa said softly. “Anyway, let’s go inside.”

They seated themselves in one of the back booths and ordered drinks while they looked over the menu. Irene knew she needed a clear head and only ordered water. Teresa got a martini after Irene assured her it was fine. 

“Did you close the Brown account?” Teresa asked after they had placed their orders.

“Yes. I think it all worked out rather well. We should be seeing an increase next quarter.”

“So you must bring in quite a lot every year. I mean, that place you’re living is pretty swanky.”

“I do pretty well for myself,” she said neutrally.

“Come on,” Teresa insisted. “How much? I’ll tell you mine.”

“Money isn’t important to me.”

Teresa raised a brow. “Spoken like someone who’s always had it.”

Irene’s lips parted, ready to snap back, but she knew Teresa was right. “Perhaps. But I try to use it to help people.”

“I know.” Teresa’s voice was soft, sincere, almost apologetic. “When I was in high school, my older sister got really sick. We didn’t have a lot, and what we did have was spent on her. My mom couldn’t work, she was always taking care of her. I’m always torn between using what I have now to help and that small voice in the back of my mind that wants to horde it all, just in case.”

Irene knew she could not understand or relate. Her family had always been wealthy, incredibly so, and she had never wanted for any earthly comfort. “I’m sorry. About your sister. I can’t imagine what a loss like that does to a family.”

“It’s impossible, you know?” Teresa’s mouth quirked, and she looked down at her drink. “People think because I’m rich and famous and beautiful that I don’t have pain. But I had to watch my parents bury their daughter. I lost my big sister. And the medical bills…That was the first thing I paid off after my big break.”

“I pour a lot of money into the Foundation. It doesn’t just pay for research. We also pay bills for those who can’t. Or at least try to help them.” She shook her head. “I don’t do enough.”

“Hey, you do a lot. That’s why I asked to be invited to your gala.”

“I thought the board approached you?” Irene asked with a frown. 

“Oh, no. I had my agent contact them. You’d be surprised at how hard it is for people to take me seriously. No one thinks I can actually be passionate about something.”

Irene swallowed, knowing she had been one of those people. “I suppose they just have to get to know you.”

“Regardless, I think I’ll increase my donation.”

“You’re already one of the most generous donors,” Irene said, touched. She also felt guilty for her earlier assumptions that Teresa had only come to the Gala for her own publicity. It seemed she had more depth than that. “You want to make sure your daughter still has something left to inherit.”

“Clare is already going to start off with more than anyone should.” Teresa paused as their food arrived. She poured ketchup on her plate before continuing. “I want her to always know how lucky she is. I have a hard enough time remembering myself. She’s never known anything different. I was already established when she was born. I want her to know humility.”

“I think that’s good. You don’t want her to end up like a Kardashian.” 

Teresa snorted. “No, somehow I can’t see Clare being an influencer.”

“I don’t know much about children,” Irene admitted. “My brother is older than me, and, well, I've never had the opportunity to start a family.” 

She shifted uncomfortably, realizing for the first time that if she pursued anything with Teresa, Clare was part of that deal. She would have to accept that responsibility. 

“Clare is...it’s hard to put into words.” Teresa had a far away look on her face, and Irene watched her with a burning, bubbling jealousy that tasted sour in her throat. Clare would ruin everything, _take_ everything.

Irene blinked. Why had she thought that? Clare was not her competition. Clare was Teresa’s daughter, and the child would always come first, as it should be. At her age, it was more and more likely that anyone she dated would have children from previous relationships. 

Teresa was still talking, oblivious to Irene’s turmoil. “Being a mom is both the most rewarding and challenging thing I’ve ever done. And I do mean challenging. Sometimes I just want to drop her off at her dad’s and leave her there until she’s twenty-five. That or boarding school.”

“Don’t send her to boarding school,” Irene said before she could stop herself.

“Oh?” 

“Oh. Um, yes. I...my parents sent me away, and...it can be challenging.” Which was an understatement. In fact, it had been the worst part of her life, the time when her hallucinations had really started. The part where she had suffered severe depression, had been hospitalized after a failed suicide attempt. She swallowed and looked down at her lap. Great, what a fantastic impression she must be making. 

“Irene.” She looked up at Teresa’s gentle voice. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later. I don’t want to scare you off just yet.” She tried to make light of it, but Teresa did not smile.

“You won’t. I promise.” She stared at Irene intently until the other woman looked away. 

God, Teresa made her feel so much, and she did not feel equipped to decipher what it all meant. 

“It’s not something I like to talk about.” It was not a lie. She did not even like discussing it with her therapist. It was a dark time she just wanted to forget. Since then, she had done everything and accomplished everything she had set out to do. There was no reason to dwell on the past.

“All right.” Teresa let the subject drop. “Hey, why don’t we get out of here and just go back to my place?”

Irene couldn’t speak for a moment before her brain caught up. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“That was the idea, yes.” Teresa grinned, and Irene had to remind herself to breathe. 

“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed,” she said, hoping she sounded smooth instead of scared. “I don’t put out on the first date.” 

“That’s a shame,” Teresa said, shaking her head. “I think you would have looked really lovely naked in my bed.” Irene tried to cover the squeak that escaped her mouth with a cough, but she knew Teresa was not fooled. “I guess I’ll just have to make sure there’s a second date.” 

“I would like to see your place, though. Maybe it can just be a coffee.”

“I can do coffee,” Teresa said. She called over the waitress and asked for the check.

“Is this together or separate?”

“Together, give it to me,” Teresa said before Irene could even reach for her wallet. 

After she paid, Teresa led the way back to her car. Irene was curious to see where she lived, but part of her was a little nervous. She could not work through all of the confusion Teresa made her feel. One moment, everything felt easy and comfortable and so very good, and the next Irene was plagued by doubts and a fear that bordered on terror, the kind of terror that was only brought about through extreme trauma. Sure, she’d had bad relationships. She’d been strung along, cheated on, the works. But this was different. This wasn’t nervousness that Teresa would be the same. This was a primal, guttural fear, strangling her lungs. An inescapable demon set to kill her, an arm ripped from her with impossible speed. This was a fear she could not shake. 

“Actually, Teresa,” she piped up, subconsciously rolling her left shoulder to prove it was still there. “Could you just take me home? I’m feeling a bit tired.” And she needed to think.

“Oh, uh, sure.” Teresa looked out the windshield, not meeting Irene’s eyes. “Yes. Okay.”

“Teresa-”

“No, it's okay.” Teresa cut her off. Her body was strangely stiff. “You don’t need to explain. I was too pushy.” Then she muttered as an afterthought, “Too soon.”

“Teresa, I just need time to think, okay?” 

She was on edge about how scary the thought of not seeing Teresa again was. It was all so intense, so deep and real. This was something she needed to work through with a clear head. 

“I have a lot of things to think about. I do want to see you again. I…” She took a deep breath before plunging in, knowing, somehow, that Teresa would understand. “I’ve never had this kind of connection with someone before, and it’s just...it’s a lot. Just give me a couple of days. If you haven’t heard from me by Monday, then you have my permission to call me.”

“Oh.” Teresa relaxed visibly. “Okay. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

“It’s all right. I should have been more clear.” Irene folded her hands in her lap. “This isn’t normal is it?”

“What?”

“This...whatever this is.” She glanced back at Teresa, gesturing between them. “I mean, I feel like I’ve known you my entire life, and I don't even know what your favorite color is.”

Teresa chuckled. “It’s green. And you should know, I’m a huge football fan. Hardcore. Love my Texans.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Clare and I go to as many games as we can.”

“I like figure skating, and not just during the Olympics,” Irene admitted. “And my favorite color is red.”

“There,” Teresa said with triumph. “Now we’ve covered the typical first date conversation. Do you feel better now?”

“Marginally.” The car pulled up to her home, and she moved to get out. As she shut her door, Teresa exited the car and walked around the front to stand before her.

“Is it all right if I give you a goodnight kiss?” 

Irene tensed, torn between her terror and desire. 

“Yes,” she breathed, heart pounding. 

Teresa looked up and down the street, probably searching for paparazzi, before leaning in to gently brush her lips against Irene’s. It was short and chaste, but it left tingles running down her spine. Irene wanted more, but Teresa pulled back, smiling softly. 

“Thank you,” Teresa said with a smile. 

“For what?”

“For the best first date I’ve ever had.”

“All your other ones must have been completely awful, then.” 

“Pretty much.” She smiled a little wider before heading back to the driver’s side. “Remember to call me this time. If you don’t, I won’t leave you alone on Monday.” And then she and the car were gone, leaving Irene standing on the sidewalk with her fingers against her lips.

Irene spent the next two days fretting about what to do. It did occur to her that there was a possibility that Teresa was doing this as a publicity stunt. It seemed unlikely, but she really did not know the woman well enough to say for sure. It was something celebrities sometimes did, and even though she did not get that vibe from Teresa, the paranoid part of her said to be extremely careful. Irene knew she would not be able to handle being used in such a way. 

Additionally, she was starting to see a pattern between her nightmares and Teresa. It was only on days she had seen or talked to Teresa that her dreams went to that dark, vivid, alternate space. The one that somehow felt more real than her waking life. A side effect of her medication, she thought. 

On Saturday, she purposely filled her day with things that did not relate to Teresa Blackwell, and failed miserably when her favorite newsstand was selling magazines with Teresa on the cover, smiling brightly at all who passed. She bought one. The article inside was all about how Teresa balanced acting and her career with being a single parent. She sounded so sincere and down to earth and Irene could not help frowning as she read. Something about Clare rubbed a raw nerve, but she tried to brush it aside. How pathetic was it to be jealous of someone’s child? She would just have to move past it. 

On Sunday, after a few hours of work in her home office, she took her sketchbook to Central Park and sat under a tree drawing all day. When she looked back at them later, almost all of her sketches were of Teresa. 

So on Monday during her lunch break, she queued up Teresa’s number, locked the door of her office, and pressed “call.” It rang six times before the voicemail picked up.

“Hello, you’ve reached Teresa’s phone. I’m either asleep, with the kid, or I just don’t like you. If you fall into that last category, and that means you Meryl, then don’t bother leaving a message. For everyone else, you know what to do.” 

After the tone, Irene took a deep breath. “Hello, Teresa. It’s Irene Winters.” She grimaced. Duh. “I called you like I promised.” Duh again. “Do you really hate Meryl Streep? I always got the impression she was nice. Anyway, I um...well, I’d like to see you again so…just call me back. Oh, but not until later tonight, if that’s okay. I have a lot of work to get through today. A lot of meetings. So...yes. Call me later.” After she hung up, she stared at the phone, wishing that she had said almost everything differently. “I am such an idiot.”

She spent the rest of the day obsessively checking her phone to see if Teresa had called her back. Amidst all of her meetings, she could think of nothing else. It was noticeable, and Flora pulled her aside to ask her if she was all right.

“I’m fine. Just a bit preoccupied.”

“If you’re sure, Ms. Winters?”

“I am.” Her tone held a finality that Flora knew better than to challenge. She gave a nod and retreated to her desk, shooting Irene one last questioning look before returning to work. 

Finally, around six-thirty, after most people had left and she had sent Flora home, her phone lit up, buzzing against the glass of her desk. The noise startled her and she dropped her pen in her haste to answer.

“Hello?”

 _“Meryl is actually a friend of mine. We enjoy giving each other a hard time._ ”

“Didn’t she win an Oscar over you?” Irene smiled as her heart rate slowed to a normal pace. 

“ _Her? No. That year we were both beat out by Cate Blanchett_.” Teresa chuckled. 

“Well, I don’t really pay much attention to celebrities, but she’s one I don’t find completely irritating.” Irene decided that she might as well head home now. She would not get much more work done that night. Cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder, she packed up her briefcase and slipped on the pumps that she had taken off earlier before flicking off the lights and heading out. 

_“Oh, is that so? What did you think about me?”_

Irene debated what to say, not sure if the truth would go over well. But she knew she always wanted to be honest with Teresa. After all, hadn’t little white lies been what destroyed them the first time around?

“Honestly?” she began, wishing the intrusive thoughts would leave her alone. “I hadn’t paid all that much attention to you.”

 _“Ouch. I’m hurt.”_ She could tell that Teresa was teasing, though.

“I actually think this is a good thing,” Irene explained. “That way I don’t have unrealistic expectations. I mean, you don’t want to date someone who expects you to be perfect all the time, do you?”

_“Not really. You are very wise, Irene Winters.”_

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks.” She stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby. “But I did always think you were good at what you did. Not like that hack, Meryl Streep.” She smiled wryly as Teresa laughed on the other end. 

_“Okay. It’s official. I can’t wait until the weekend to see you again. Do you have any free time for lunch tomorrow or Wednesday?”_

“I’ll have to check with Flora, but I think I can do lunch Wednesday.” Eating together in the middle of the day, however, meant that there was a much greater chance of them being seen. Irene sighed, the knot of nerves already forming in her stomach. 

_“What is it, Irene?”_

“I’m just concerned about....I need to feel secure in this before I can handle being dragged through the tabloids.” The remnants of another conversation lingered below the surface. They had talked about this before, long ago, Irene realized. A conversation about whether or not seeing each other was worth the risk. But a risk that was so much greater than tabloid gossip. 

_“Can I do anything to make you feel more secure?”_ Teresa’s voice grew low and serious, pulling Irene back to reality. _“Because I really want to be able to take you places, and not have you worried all the time.”_

Irene took a deep breath, composing herself as she stepped into the lobby. She lowered her voice so that no prying ears could hear.

“I need to know something, and I need you to not be offended that I asked.”

_“Okay.”_

“Is this just some publicity stunt?” Silence met her. “I mean, are you just pretending to be bi so that you can get the publicity and then dump me once you’ve gotten enough press?” More silence. Irene bit her lip as she hailed a cab. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. It’s just something I had to ask.”

 _“I understand.”_ Irene let out the breath she had been holding. Teresa did not sound mad or hurt. _“Sometimes I forget that most people don’t have to deal with everything I do. I guess I should look at this from your perspective, too. This isn’t a stunt. I mean....you’re so much...more than anyone I’ve ever been with, and I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.”_

“Okay. That’s all I needed to hear. Thank you.”

_“So is that a ‘yes’ for lunch?”_

“It is. I’ll make room in my schedule.” She opened the door to a cab and told her address to the driver before leaning back against the seat. “I had a lot of time to think over the weekend, and I am fully prepared to do this with you.” Because not doing this, not being with Teresa, was more terrifying than facing a thousand youma.

Youma? What the hell-

 _“I’m really happy about that. Very happy.”_ Irene heard a small voice in the background ask what was for dinner and was startled to realize that the owner must be Teresa’s daughter. The now familiar jealousy reared its head, and Irene forgot all about whatever the hell a youma was to try and quash it. _“Can you hold on just a sec? Clare’s being needy.”_

“Sure.” She heard what she thought was the sound of Teresa putting down the phone, and there was some murmuring. Irene glanced out the window of the cab as she waited, watching the passing lights of the city. She could hear Teresa and Clare decide on macaroni and cheese, the girl squealing excitedly, and Teresa laughing. It was such a beautiful laugh. The cab stopped in front of her building and she paid the driver. She was halfway up the stairs when Teresa got back on.

_“Sorry about that. Growing girl and all.”_

“Of course. That’s perfectly fine.” She dropped her briefcase in the front hall and kicked off her shoes. “If you need to go, that’s okay, too.” Because she would be damned if she let herself be taken by some stupid juvenile need to come first in Teresa’s life. 

_“No, not yet,”_ Teresa insisted. _“Clare’s going to make her own food tonight. She knows how. I’m just going to supervise her.”_

“How old is she?” If she and Teresa ever got serious, she supposed Clare would become a big part of her life. She did not know if she was ready for a child. 

_“How old are you now, Clare?”_ Teresa called. _“Twenty-five, thirty?”_ Clare giggled in the background and Irene heard her answer that she was eleven, and then she called Teresa silly. _“She says she’s eleven, but I’m not sure. I think she might be lying to me. She can’t be a day younger than twenty.”_ Clare giggled again, and Irene’s chest tightened painfully. She could tell that Teresa was putting on a show for the girl, and the interaction was so...natural. It wasn’t fair. Not after all the work Irene had put into this…

She shook her head. No, there hadn’t been any work yet. Why did she keep thinking that?

“Well, I certainly would not have been able to cook anything on my own when I was eleven,” she confessed. “In fact, I’m not much of a cook now. I mostly eat frozen meals when I’m at home.”

 _“With all that money?”_ Teresa sounded surprised. _“You don’t even have a cook?”_

“This isn’t L.A.,” she reminded Teresa. “I’m a single woman in her thirties. I don’t have any use for a cook.”

_“You don’t have to be single for much longer, if you don’t want to.”_

“We’ve only had one date,” Irene said, startled but thrilled. “You want to make it official already?”

 _“Well, I won’t send out a public statement or anything,”_ Teresa promised. _“At least not until you’re ready. But...I don’t want to be dating anyone else, so...I’d like it if we could just go ahead and call ourselves exclusive.”_

“That...that would be good for me, too.” Exclusive. She was in an exclusive relationship with Teresa Blackwell, Oscar-nominated actress, one of People Magazine’s most beautiful. She wondered when she would wake up from this strange dream she had been thrust into. Because there was no way this was real. 

_“Okay. Good. I have to go now. I don’t let anything get in the way of my dinner time with Clare.”_

“Of course.” It came out almost a growl. Teresa, thankfully, did not notice. 

_“I’ll see you Wednesday. Should I call you before then?”_

“I would like that very much.”

_“Okay. Then I will call you sometime tomorrow. Goodnight, Irene.”_

“Goodnight, Teresa.” She hung up, hand pressed to her stomach, unable to shake the feeling that this would all end in horror and blood.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my beta, shelter!

The lunch went off without a hitch, and their faces did not end up in the tabloids the next day, so Irene felt more comfortable agreeing to meet Teresa for lunch again in the future. They did meet again that Saturday while Clare was at her ballet lesson. And then again the following Monday after Irene moved around a few meetings. Flora had raised a brow but said nothing. Wednesday, they met for an early dinner while Clare was home with her nanny. 

“So, where does Clare think you are right now?” Irene asked as she pushed her salad around on its plate. They always seemed to meet when Clare was either at school, some kind of lesson, or with her father, which had led Irene to believe that Teresa was not yet ready for her daughter to know of their relationship. Which was simultaneously fine with her and infuriating. Wasn’t she good enough to meet this child, even if she didn’t want to? 

“Eating with you,” Teresa replied, stuffing a fork full of lettuce in her mouth. 

“Really? I didn’t think she knew yet,” Irene said casually, though she might have been pleasantly surprised. “It’s a bit early, isn’t it?” 

Teresa shrugged. “I try not to lie to her unless absolutely necessary,” she explained. “She’s too smart. She sees through it.” There was a hint of pride in her voice.

“What does she think?” Irene asked, as if the answer weren’t important. She knew that Clare’s approval was vital to the future of their budding relationship, no matter how much that stung. 

“About what?”

Irene rolled her eyes. “About the economy,” she snipped. “About this, of course. About you dating a woman. I mean, you’ve never indicated to her that you liked women before, have you?”

“No. Not since she was born.” Teresa scrunched up her nose, thinking. “Nothing she would have known about, anyway.”

“But you told her about me?”

“She knows your name,” Teresa began. “And she knows we’re more than just friends. Her best friend in LA had two dads, and I always tried to make sure she knew it was all right to be gay.”

“So how did she react when you told her?” 

Irene had discovered that Teresa really enjoyed talking about Clare. It had taken a little time to get her to open up about her daughter, but once she started, she had trouble stopping. It was to be expected. Teresa was between movies at the moment, and as such, she spent a lot more time with Clare. Irene knew she had to try and make a connection with the girl, despite the bone deep ache that always settled in her right shoulder when Clare was mentioned. Despite the anger, envy, resentment that still invaded her usually sensible thoughts. 

“At first she was angry,” Teresa said honestly. “And a little confused. Because of her dad, you know, she hadn’t considered the possibility of me dating women. Then she decided it was ‘cool.’ Apparently there are lesbians on some doctor show that her father lets her watch.”

“Well, I suppose that’s good.”

“Yeah, lesbians are big right now, I guess,” Teresa said, swirling her wine around in its glass. “But I made sure she knew that she couldn’t tell anyone yet. Only her nanny knows.”

“My assistant knows,” Irene said. “She has to be ready for any sort of damage control. Plus, she’s in charge of my schedule.” 

Teresa nodded, pausing as the waitress brought their food. “That’s probably wise,” she said once they were alone again. “I should probably tell mine. Or my publicist or something.” 

Irene smiled, amused. Teresa had told her about all the times her publicist had been the last person to know. “Do you ever tell her anything?”

“Not if I can help it.” Teresa returned the smile.

“Then what’s the point of paying her?”

“It’s so much fun to watch her scramble,” Teresa explained. “I know she must hate me, but the money’s good, and she likes to tell people that she works for me.”

“You must be a huge pain in the ass.”

“I do my best.”

The next time they met was to help Teresa pick out a new end table for her living room. Clare was with her father. Irene was concerned about them shopping together, but she need not have been. The store closed so that Teresa could shop without being bothered, and she dropped a staggering amount of money on a few pieces.

“That was excessive,” Irene commented as the sales clerk went into the back of the store to write up the order.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Teresa sighed. “But I do have an eye for mahogany. Almost impossible to find it sustainably sourced.”

“Well, I can’t fault your taste,” Irene said. “Those were beautiful pieces.” 

_ Teresa did like the finer things, splurging on expensive rooms even when in hiding... _

“It’s really one of the few things that I’ll spend so much on,” Teresa said with a nod, breaking Irene’s thoughts. 

“That and shoes.” Irene raised a brow at Teresa’s scandalized look. “Don’t give me that look. I know all about your shoe collection.”

“How do you know that?” Teresa asked, scandalized.

“I read it in Vogue,” Irene replied, unable to keep the smirk from her lips. 

Teresa just shook her head as she turned back around to pay for the furniture. “You read too much.”

“And you have too many shoes.”

It had not really been a date, exactly, but it had been nice. 

The only downside of this relationship Irene could see was that she found herself becoming distracted during meetings, doodling sketches of Teresa on her briefs, usually in a strange warrior outfit. 

Flora took her aside one day and asked if everything was all right.

“Of course it is,” Irene said. “Why do you ask?”

“You just seem a bit distracted,” Flora answered quietly. “I don’t want to pry or anything. I know it’s not my place, but...is everything going well...personally, I mean?” 

“Things are going very well,” Irene said slowly. “In fact, I think I might need to sit down with you and talk about what to do if my relationship with Teresa is exposed before we’re ready.”

“Of course, Ms. Winters.”

“You know I hate to ask this,” Irene began, “but do you think you might be able to stay a little late tomorrow? I don’t want to take time out of the work day for it.” She knew the woman had her own life to get back to. 

“It’s no problem at all,” Flora replied with a reassuring smile. 

“Thank you, Flora.” Irene’s sincerity surprised the both of them. 

Flora’s cheeks colored ever so slightly and she nodded. “Is that all?”

“Yes, for now.” 

Irene was very glad that she had hired Flora as a replacement for her last assistant. Noel had been a horrible gossip, more inclined to unprofessionalism than Irene had been able to tolerate, even if there was something strangely familiar about her. She had fired the woman after only two weeks. Flora had been with her for years now, and Irene hoped never to lose her. She would be very hard to replace. 

“Oh, could you call Harold from management and ask if we could move our meeting tomorrow up to three?”

“Of course, Ms. Winters.” Flora walked back over to her desk to dial the number as Irene left for another lunch with Teresa. 

That evening, she sat at her desk with Flora, looking over the statement they had written. 

“Do you think it’s concise?”

“Yes, Ms. Winters. It’s to the point. No fluff.”

“Should it have more fluff?” She read over it again, and would defer to Flora’s opinion. The girl was more in tune with public opinion than Irene. “I don’t want to seem too aloof.”

“I think if we tried to add more fluff, it would seem disingenuous. When this all gets out, you’ll be in the public eye. You’ll want them to have a sense of who you are.”

A smile tugged at Irene’s mouth. “I’m not fluff?”

“No, Ms. Winters,” Flora said, her own eyes crinkling in a smile. “But that’s a good thing in my book. It’s why I wanted to work for you.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. When I met you at my interview, I knew that you were the best, and I wanted to work with the best. Whenever this gets out, people will see that, too.”

Irene looked at her assistant carefully, and realized that this was her closest relationship besides Teresa. She did not know whether that was pathetic or not, but she thought she could do worse than Flora.

“I do appreciate that. I hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right, Ms. Winters,” Flora said.

“You know, I can’t argue with that.” Irene stretched, preparing to go home. “Well, we’ll keep this handy and hope that we won’t have to use it for a while.”

“I’ll be prepared.”

“I know. Thank you, Flora. It would seem I work with the best, as well.”

This earned her a blush from her assistant who thanked her before they both headed out.

As she and Teresa started to really fall into a rhythm, and the unsettling closeness Irene had felt from the beginning only grew. Irene was always reserved in her relationships, sometimes to the point where her previous partners claimed she was cold and frigid. She always feared losing control, _ awakening _ , and now she worried that her heart was telling her to go all in with Teresa. Irene had never, not in her entire life, felt so strongly about another person, and she did not know why. She did not know why her dreams about Teresa were so vivid, so real, so strange. She did not know why she felt like there was a piece of the puzzle missing, but she did know that she had to make things with Teresa work. 

Like this was a second chance, their last chance. 

“I told my parents about you,” Teresa said over dinner the following week, startling Irene who nearly choked on her tea. 

“You did?” She waited with apprehension for Teresa to elaborate. 

“Yes.” Teresa sighed heavily “They were pretty angry for a bit. There was a lot of yelling and crying on my mom’s part. My father kept saying that he didn’t understand. Hadn’t I been married? It was a long conversation. We hung up on less than great terms”

“I’m sorry.” Irene did not know what else to say. 

Teresa shook her head lightly. “Don’t apologize, Irene,” she said gently. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Besides,” She leaned back in her chair and smiled, “it turned out well.”

“It did?”

“Yes. My mother called me later that night and said ‘Teresa.’” She put on a slow drawl, exaggerating the southern accent. “‘I don’t rightly understand, and I’m not sure I ever will, but I know my daughter, and if you say you’re happy, then I know you must be telling the truth, and I only want you to be happy.’”

Irene felt her heart squeeze, and she was not sure if she would be able to contain her emotions for a moment. “You’re happy with me?”

“You couldn’t tell?” Teresa’s eyes were soft and kind. 

“I had hoped so, but....” Irene looked down at her plate, suddenly feeling very exposed in the restaurant. “It’s just that we haven’t been together all that long.” That plus the lingering feeling that one of them had done something in the past to jeopardize this. But she couldn’t tell Teresa that. Couldn’t tell anyone. When she put it into words, she sounded delusional. 

Teresa looked carefully to her right, back out into the rest of the restaurant before reaching across the table to take Irene’s hand in her own. “I can honestly say that this is the happiest I’ve been in a very, very long time.” She let their hands break apart as the waitress brought the check.

“Anyway,” Teresa continued as they left, “my mom called me a few more times to ask about you and about, you know, the whole dating women thing. I told her that I was dating one woman, thank you very much, not all of them. She was like ‘oh, child, you know what I mean.’” Teresa placed a hand gently, possessively on the small of Irene’s back as she steered her to the car. “‘Now, darlin’, just tell me about this girl. Is she respectable? Does she go to church?’”

“Church?” Irene raised a brow as she dipped into the passenger side of the car. 

Teresa grinned sheepishly.

“Yeah. She’s a good old Southern girl.” Teresa hopped in next to her, turning the key and putting the car into gear. “Her life revolves around football and Jesus. In that order. Go Longhorns.” She held up her hand, pinky and index fingers extended with the others curled over her palm in a gesture that Irene had only associated with rock music before. Must have been some football thing. 

“Well, what did you tell her?”

“That churches aren’t exactly welcoming to gay people.” Teresa looked behind them before pulling out into the street. “She said that was okay as long as you knew Jesus loves you.” She let out a low chuckle. “I swear, sometimes that woman is so out of touch with reality.”

“She sounds sweet,” Irene said diplomatically, feeling like her own reality was starting to shift.

“She has good intentions,” Teresa said. “She doesn’t really understand, but she’s trying. You already have an invitation to Christmas, by the way. Clare spends Thanksgiving with her father’s family, but she’s all ours for Christmas, and my mom goes all out.” Irene was too stunned to speak, but Teresa barely noticed. “She wants to meet you. She says that I’ve never talked about any of my boyfriends the way I talk about you.” She glanced back at the other woman. “Irene? Are you okay?”

“No one’s ever invited me home to meet their parents before.” 

“You don’t have to come if it will make you feel uncomfortable,” Teresa assured her. “I can tell her you want to spend it with your own family.” 

“No, I want to go,” she said hurriedly. Her relationship with her family was distant, and she had not mentioned them much to Teresa. “I want to meet your parents, but...what if they don’t like me?”

“They can just deal with it,” Teresa answered firmly. “But my mom’s too much of a Southern lady to be mean to you to your face, so don’t worry about that.”

“I suppose I’ll have to meet Clare some time before that,” Irene said cautiously.

“I suppose so.” Teresa glanced quickly at her, not taking her eyes off the road for very long. “I want her to become more used to the idea of all this before you meet her, though.”

“Of course. I wasn’t trying to push the matter.” Even though she absolutely did want to push the matter. She hoped that as soon as she met Clare, she would stop feeling so viscerally jealous. 

“I know. I’m just glad that you  _ want _ to meet her,” Teresa admitted. “It’s hard to find someone who can accept that I have a child from a previous relationship and that I’m still friends with her father.” 

“Have you told Chris about us yet?” 

Chris was Clare’s father. He was a photographer for National Geographic and could spend months overseas. When he was stateside, he tried to stay very involved in Clare’s life. From what Irene could tell, he tried to be a good father, even if he was not around as much as she needed. 

“Not yet. I haven’t been able to think up the right words. It’s hard to tell your ex that you’re interested in chicks now. I just don’t want him to think that he turned me gay or anything. I’ve always been attracted to women as well as men.” 

“Doesn’t he know that?” Irene asked quietly. 

“No.” Teresa smiled wryly. “I suppose that would have been a pretty good indication that our marriage was doomed to fail. If I didn’t want to tell him something like that, then it’s not surprising that our relationship was...unhealthy.” 

Teresa always tried to steer the conversation away from her former marriage. Irene knew that he had been the one to file for divorce but that they had both agreed that it was the right decision. Beyond that, Teresa kept quiet, and Irene did not want to push. She couldn’t judge. She hadn’t told Teresa much about her own failed relationships. The past didn’t seem important. Not this past, at least... 

“Just out of curiosity.” Irene tried to sound casual, but Teresa’s eyes narrowed. “How many women have you been with?” 

Teresa pursed her lips in thought. “Five.”

“Oh.” Irene felt odd as she realized that Teresa had been with more women than she had. The jealousy that was usually reserved for Clare welled inside her. She wanted to know who they were. Hunt them down, make sure they knew not to cross Quicksword-

“Irene?” 

She rubbed her temple, knocking away the strange thoughts. At work, she was always cold, calm, and collected. The Ice Queen. She never gave anything away, and her poker face was legendary. But when it came to Teresa, she lost all of that. 

“That’s more than I expected,” she said softly.  _ That Teresa would risk this with anyone else, risk elimination… _

Irene wondered if she needed to schedule another appointment with her psychiatrist. The intrusive thoughts were getting worse. 

Teresa frowned, confused. “Is that a problem?” Her brows knitted together. “I didn’t think you would care. You’ve been with other women, too.”

Irene looked down at her lap, trying to swallow the unexpected anger. “I’ve been with a few, yes. But work gets in the way.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Teresa was looking at her strangely. “Why are you apologizing for that?”

“You’ve been with more people than I have.”

“So? That doesn’t matter. Those were all flings, anyway. Yours were committed relationships, right?” Teresa asked.

“Well, I was committed, at least,” Irene muttered. Teresa, for the first time since Irene had met her, was at a loss for words. She took Irene’s hand in hers and held it tight. 

That night, when Teresa kissed her goodnight, it was slow and soft, but there was something else underneath. An intense desire that Irene could feel resonating through her entire body. Teresa pulled them into the shadows next to Irene’s building, her arms wrapped tight around Irene. They continued like that for quite some time before Irene gently pushed Teresa back, finally regaining some control. 

“I think it’s time to call it a night,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I had a wonderful evening, Teresa. Thank you.” 

Teresa leaned in to give her nose one last small kiss. “Clare’s going over to a friend’s house Wednesday. I know this awesome Greek place I want to take you to.”

“Are you going to let me pay this time?”

“Absolutely not.” Teresa walked her to the door, gave her another sound kiss and marched back to the car she insisted on driving.

When Irene was back inside her kitchen, she stared at the phone for a few minutes before making a decision. She dialed a number she seldom used.

_ “Hello?” _ The voice that answered was female.

“Elda? It’s Irene.” 

_ “Oh, hey!”  _ her brother’s wife exclaimed.  _ “How are you? Is everything all right?”  _

It was a legitimate question. Irene never called unless it was a holiday, someone’s birthday, or someone was in trouble. 

“Everything’s fine. I’m doing really well, thank you.” She shrugged off her jacket and took off her shoes. “Is Paul home?” She glanced at the clock, hoping it wasn’t too late in the evening. 

_ “Yeah, he’s in the study. Let me go get him.” _

Irene waited patiently while Elda retrieved her brother. 

_ “Ren?” _ He was the only one who called her that.  _ “What’s going on? Has Dad finally kicked it?” _

If Irene’s relationship with her father was cold, her brother’s relationship with him was nonexistent. Paul had basically been cut from her father’s will after he married Elda, a girl from a poor, working class family. Not fitting for the heir to the Winters fortune. Now, Irene stood to inherit it all, while her brother had been forced to make his own way in the world. 

“Sadly, no,” Irene joked. “He just texted me a few days ago to see if you were still alive.”

_ “So glad he still cares,” _ Paul drawled.  _ “Well then, to what do I owe the pleasure?” _

“Well, I wanted you to know that I’ve met someone.” 

_ “That’s great Ren! It’s been too long since you had someone. Is it anyone I know?” _

“Kind of,” Irene said. “And you’re probably not going to believe me, but I promise I’m not lying.”

_ “Of course not. So, who is it?” _

“Teresa Blackwell.”

_ “The actress?” _

“The very one.”

_ “Damn, Ren.” _ Paul whistled low.  _ “She’s hot. And famous...and I thought she was married or something.” _

“She used to be, but she’s not anymore.” Irene stifled a yawn. She had been up very early that morning to finish some paperwork. “I met her at the Gala for the foundation.” She paused, frowning. “I don’t recall seeing you there, Paul.” He usually tried to make it since it was in honor of their mother.

_ “Elda wasn’t feeling well,”  _ he explained.  _ “The doctor doesn’t want her to put too much of a strain on herself, you know. I texted you.” _ Elda was a little old for a first time mother, and both she and Paul were worried about the baby. 

“Oh.” She hadn’t seen his text. She had been too busy being overwhelmed by Teresa. “I was a bit distracted that day. Is Elda feeling better? She’s due soon, right?”

_ “She’s feeling fine now. She’s got another five weeks.” _

“You’re going to name the kid after me, right?” she teased. 

Paul laughed heartily.  _ “Of course. But you’re changing the subject. Tell me more about this Teresa. I want to know who’s awesome enough to make my sister call me when it’s not even my birthday.” _

She spent the next thirty minutes on the phone with her brother, telling him all about Teresa, impressing on him the importance of not letting anyone know. It was the longest conversation they had had in quite some time. Irene always wondered why that was. She supposed they were just both so busy with their work that they forgot how long it had been since they had last talked. She made a promise to herself that she would make more of an effort to keep connected with her brother. 

Her dreams that night featured the blond girl again, the one with fire in her heart. The girl’s name was just out of reach, but Irene knew she was important. She would change everything. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my beta, shelter!

After weeks of carefully avoiding the paparazzi, meeting in secluded places, Irene was completely convinced that her relationship with Teresa was real and true. She knew that she had completely fallen for this woman, and she was terrified and exhilarated at the same time. Each night when she was lying in bed, looking at the ceiling, she could not help but wonder what it would be like to have Teresa next to her. She was wary of going too fast too soon.  _ That had not worked out for them before.  _

But then again, before, they’d had to take any opportunity they could. That’s what her dream voice said, anyway. 

It was a Saturday night, and Clare was spending the weekend at her father’s. Earlier that week, Teresa had called Irene and asked if she would like to come over for a home-cooked dinner and maybe just a night on the couch with a good movie. They would be alone. In Teresa’s home. Irene had come to the decision that it was time to really take a chance on Teresa. It was time to put her trust in the other woman. 

No one was after her. No one was out to hurt them. 

She arrived at Teresa’s building at ten till six, and the doorman let her in, expecting her. Teresa was unsurprised to see Irene ten minutes early. She was used to it by now. 

“Hey.” Teresa smiled and leaned in to kiss Irene softly as she pulled them both inside and shut the door behind them. Irene let her eyes flutter shut as Teresa wrapped her arms around her waist. Kissing Teresa was like jumping off a cliff and trusting her tether. She got a tug in her stomach and her heart thudded in her chest, and this feeling had not diminished as time went on. 

When they pulled apart for breath, Irene returned the smile. 

“Hey yourself.” She looked around her, having never actually been to Teresa’s home. It was cozy, but modern. Evidence of Clare’s presence was all over the place. There was a schoolbag near the door, and a pair of child’s sneakers in the hall. “Your place is beautiful,” she said, turning around to take in more. “Do I get a tour?”

“Of course,” Teresa said. “This is the front hall. Obviously. Or Clare’s closet.” She waved her hand at the coat and shoes left in the middle of the floor. “I suppose I should have cleaned up a bit.”

“It’s fine.” Irene felt that having those little reminders of Teresa’s child would help her keep a level head about all this. Teresa put her hands on Irene’s hips and spun her around, pushing her down the hall. She showed Irene the apartment, though the door to Clare’s room was closed. Teresa explained there was no way that mess was getting cleaned. 

“So when do I get to see your place?” Teresa asked as they walked back to the kitchen. 

“You’ve seen it.”

“Only from the outside!” Teresa motioned for Irene to take a seat at the kitchen table, while she turned to check on the food. “I want to see the inside.”

“It’s not that interesting, I promise you.” Her style was crisp and clean. She did not feel much need to put many embellishments in her home.

“Are you trying to say that you don’t want me to see it?” Teresa’s tone was light as she stirred one of the pots, but Irene heard the apprehension behind it. 

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Irene assured her. “I would very much like for you to come over. But we’ll have to either eat out or order in.” 

Teresa relaxed and turned back to smile at Irene as she started making two plates.

“I think I can handle that.” She placed one of the plates in front of Irene and then sat down across the table from her. 

“This looks very good.” She cut into the chicken and was pleasantly surprised by its tenderness and favor. She didn’t know why she had been so convinced Teresa couldn’t cook. “And it tastes even better.

“It’s nothing special, but I thought that cooking for you would be a nice change of pace.”

“It is.” Irene looked across at Teresa before taking a sip of her drink. “I’m very impressed.”

“See,” Teresa smiled triumphantly. “I have many talents.” There was a very strong suggestion in her words and Irene blushed as she put down her glass. 

“Apparently so. Do you do windows, too?” She raised a brow and Teresa laughed.

“Not anymore. I have people for that now. I’m just doing my part keeping New York employed.”

“I’m sure.” Irene rolled her eyes as she continued to eat. “Well, this is so much more than what I could have done.”

“I’m sure you’re just exaggerating,” Teresa said, eyes twinkling. 

“When I was sixteen, I almost got expelled from my fancy boarding school because I set the kitchen on fire,” Irene informed her. “I was making pasta.” 

Teresa laughed appreciatively while Irene smiled tightly. “In that case, leave the cooking to me.” Teresa regarded Irene a moment longer, her smile falling slightly. “Irene...”

“Not yet, Teresa.” Irene looked down at her plate. Teresa had been getting closer and closer to the reason why Irene hated her time at boarding school, but Irene had not yet felt ready for full disclosure. How did you tell someone about your hallucinations, your depression, you suicide attempt? How was she supposed to bring it up? “Tonight is supposed to be fun and romantic. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Okay. But you have to promise that you won’t just keep putting this off in hopes that I’ll forget.” Teresa eyed her pointedly. “I have a memory like an elephant.” She tapped her temple.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

After dinner they moved to the den, where Irene curled up on the couch next to Teresa. The lights were low, and Irene was hyper aware of Teresa’s chest against her back, and the fact that she was nestled between Teresa’s legs. Irene did not really pay attention to the screen, instead concentrating on appearing relaxed and in control. That control wavered when Teresa’s fingers began dancing along her ribs. They had made it halfway through the movie before those hands started to fully caress her sides. Irene closed her eyes and sighed, leaning her head back onto Teresa’s shoulder. 

“That’s nice,” she murmured. Teresa’s hands travelled higher to graze the underside of Irene’s breasts. She was slightly embarrassed when a moan escaped her lips, her back arching ever so into Teresa’s touch. 

“Is this too much?” Teresa asked quietly. “Should I stop?”

“No. Don’t stop.” Never stop.

_ God, it had been too long since those hands touched her.  _

“Good. Because I might have cried if you made me stop.”

“I would never want that,” Irene managed. She wanted so much to please Teresa. Teresa’s lips came to rest against her neck, brushing the skin, causing Irene’s breath to hitch and shudder. “If you leave a hickey, I’ll kill you,” she said, very distracted.

“I’ll be careful, I promise.” Teresa’s lips travelled up, and she kissed the corner of Irene’s jaw, nipping at her pulse point. She brought her hands higher, fully cupping Irene’s breasts now, so gentle. 

_ So different than how she used to be _ . 

Irene moaned again low and deep in her throat, her hips rolling subconsciously. Teresa let one of her hands drop to Irene’s hip then down to caress her thigh before dipping briefly between her legs. 

“Oh, God,” Irene gasped, closing her eyes tightly. It had never felt this good. Her medication usually prevented her from being so sensitive. It was like Teresa already knew exactly what to do, knew exactly where to touch her where she needed it most. Heart rate skyrocketing, she turned her head to capture Teresa’s lips, the kiss desperate and hungry. She fisted her hand in Teresa’s dark hair, as if she had done so many times before.

Teresa pulled her up so that Irene was straddling her lap, arms encircling her waist, their bodies pressed against each other as they continued to kiss. Irene let her hands rest on Teresa’s shoulders, steadying herself as she got lost in Teresa’s lips. 

After several minutes, Teresa leaned back and carefully removed Irene’s shirt. Irene was left in her simple cotton bra, wishing that she had worn a different one, a sexier one. She almost apologized for it before she realized that Teresa had paused, eyes devouring her. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her hand reverently touching the skin over Irene’s breastbone. “Flawless.”

Irene blushed and looked away, trying to ignore how exposed she felt under Teresa’s intense gaze. 

“No I’m not.” 

How could Teresa think so when she herself was so incredibly stunning? Irene knew that she was not ugly by any means, and she was sure that her body, at least, was attractive. But she was always self-conscious about her slightly hooked nose and angular features. 

“Yes. You are.” Teresa took Irene’s face between her hands and kissed her soundly before nibbling on her bottom lip. “You’re perfect. I never told you enough.” Before Irene could ask what she meant, Teresa stood with surprising strength and ease, hitching Irene’s legs around her waist, and carried her to the bedroom where she gently laid her down on the bed. Irene looked up at her, chest heaving in anticipation. 

Teresa held eye contact as she pulled off her shirt and shimmied out of her jeans. Irene swallowed hard, staring at the vision of perfection before her. Not a single scar. She knew without a doubt that she had never seen a more beautiful person in all her life. She sat up and removed her own pants, leaving her in just her underwear on Teresa’s bed.

Carefully and slowly, Teresa pushed Irene back down, leaning in to kiss her, the black waves of her hair falling around them. One hand kept her braced above Irene while the other ran down between her breasts and across her stomach,  _ over the lesion that never closed, the place she should never touch.  _

Irene’s breath seized, and the alarms trilled in her head. Stop stop stop stop. STOP.

“Stop,” she squeaked against Teresa’s lips. “Please.” Disappointed, but not surprised, Teresa pulled back, closing her eyes and sighing. Irene stood and walked over to the curtained window, hand pressed to her chest, fearing her heart would break against her ribs. She vaguely expected to feel an open wound there. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” She heard the bed creak as Teresa stood to come up behind her, but not too close. “I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away.”

“I want this, Teresa,” Irene began, not quite sure how to explain her feelings, not quite sure what they even were. She wanted this so badly, but they would die if anyone found out. They’d be executed.  _ No relationships between warriors _ . “But I just...I’m having trouble.”

“With what?”

She was terrified. She had never felt more exposed and vulnerable, but Teresa was worth the risk. She had to be. 

“When I was in high school, at boarding school, I started…” She swallowed, hoping Teresa would understand, would be willing to take this on. “I started to have hallucinations now and then. As I got older, they got worse. The doctors have never been able to come up with a diagnosis, but I’ve been taking antipsychotics for years. They’ve been enough until recently. Lately, it’s been worse, but I’m...I’m working on it.”

“I didn’t realize,” Teresa said softly from behind her. 

Irene turned to face Teresa, heart fluttering at the sight of her almost naked body. “How could you have known? I’ve done my best to hide it. I didn’t want to scare you off.” 

Teresa’s eyes softened and she stepped closer, cupping Irene’s face in her hands. “I want to know every part of you, and I want to be here for you to help you and support you however you need.” She leaned their foreheads against each other. “And I understand. I’m...It’s going to be okay, Irene. You’re safe. We’re safe.” 

Irene tilted her head so that they could kiss again, wrapping her arms around Teresa’s neck, pulling their bodies flush. She thought she could feel Teresa’s heartbeat. 

“I want to do this with you,” she said as she pulled back, away from Teresa’s lips. “I’m just...” Frightened, scared, petrified... “Nervous.”

Teresa pushed Irene’s hair back behind an ear, tilting her head to the side. “I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want you.” 

Teresa’s words sent an intense wave of desire through Irene’s body that overwhelmed her fear, and she pulled Teresa back to her, capturing her lips again, her kisses desperate and needy. 

“Are you sure about this?” Teresa managed to gasp. 

“I am.” As Irene looked into the black, not silver- _ never silver _ \- eyes, she knew she had never and would never love anyone more. Not in a thousand lifetimes. Any risk, imaginary or not, was worth it. 

Teresa maneuvered them back to the bed, laying Irene down and kissing down her neck and chest. For the first time in years, Irene let herself go, gave herself over to her desires and let Teresa make love to her. When they were done, hours later, both covered in a light sheen of sweat, Teresa pulled Irene close and let her rest her head against Teresa’s chest. 

“Thank you for trusting me,” Teresa whispered into her hair. Irene closed her eyes contentedly, breathing in Teresa’s scent. Why had she been so scared? Nothing could have ever felt so right. “I know how big of a step that was.”

“And thank you for being patient with me.” Reluctantly, Irene looked at the clock and sighed when she saw that it was nearly midnight. “I should go. It’s late.” But when she tried to move, Teresa tightened her arms.

“No. Stay here.” Irene twisted around to look into Teresa’s face, and saw that her eyes were pleading. “Stay the night. Please.” There was a desperation in her voice that gave Irene pause. 

“I don’t have any clothes.” It was the only response that came to mind. 

“Well, I was planning on sleeping naked, but if you want, I have plenty of t-shirts you can wear, and no one is going to notice if you wear the same clothes tomorrow,” Teresa insisted. “Clare’s at her father’s until tomorrow evening, and I...I wanted to cook you breakfast.” Irene knew in that moment that she would stay. She could never say no to that face. “Please stay.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll stay. But only because you promised breakfast.” 

Teresa smiled and pulled Irene back down next to her, positioning them so that she was spooning Irene, and arm thrown over her waist. “Thank you.”

“I expect breakfast to be phenomenal.”

Teresa chuckled. “Good night, Irene.”

“Night, Teresa.” She settled into the sheets, snuggling against Teresa, and soon she was fast asleep. For the first time in weeks, she did not dream at all. 

When Irene awoke, it took her a moment to recognize her surroundings. She was not in her room, and the clock on the nightstand was not hers. Confused, she pushed herself up on her elbows and realized that she was naked. Her eyes widened as the night before came rushing back to her. She glanced over to her left to see Teresa’s equally naked form sleeping soundly next to her, dark hair tangled up in knots. Relaxing, Irene smiled. Teresa looked so peaceful in her sleep. Irene glanced over at the clock to see that it was only seven. Early enough that she should go back to sleep, but she had always been an early riser. Carefully, she swung her legs out of the sheets and off the bed and stumbled into Teresa’s bathroom.

There was only one robe, and Irene decided that between the two of them, she would much rather have Teresa be the naked one. So she shrugged on the robe and ran a hand through her messy hair. She scrounged around in the drawers for a hair tie. She felt comfortable enough to go through Teresa’s things, and was able to find what she needed with ease, as if she already knew where it would be. She quickly pulled her hair back, wishing she could take a shower, but the noise would wake Teresa, who had always been a light sleeper.

Irene frowned, and shook off the intrusive thought. There was only so much more medication she could take before the dosage would be too high. If these thoughts and dreams and delusions continued, she did not know what her next step would be. 

Pushing away her worry, she padded into the den. 

Irene had not brought any of her work with her, and she was not much of a fan of TV, so she made her way to Teresa’s office and rounded up a few pencils and some paper. The view from the living room was very inspiring, so she curled up in one of the comfy chairs and began sketching, losing herself in the drawings. 

“Can I see?” 

Irene’s pencil skittered across the page as Teresa’s voice startled her. She looked up to see the other woman leaning against the wall, hair tousled, with her head cocked to the side wearing only a t-shirt that barely covered her. 

“Oh, um...” Irene looked down at her paper, at the numerous sketches she had laid down in the two hours that had passed. They were mostly of Teresa. “Well I...it might seem weird...” 

Teresa raised a brow and sauntered over to Irene, coming to stand behind her and looking over her shoulder.

“It’s me.”

“Um....yeah.” Irene resisted the urge to hide the drawings, especially the ones where Teresa wore armor, letting Teresa take them from her hands to inspect them. 

“These are fantastic, Irene,” she said, holding them up to the morning light streaming through the window. She only paused for a moment as she came across the sketches of her as a warrior. “I didn’t know you were so talented.” She almost seemed upset with herself. 

Irene blushed. “They’re not that great,” she muttered. 

“Yes, they are,” Teresa insisted. “And I have to say I’m flattered.” She held up one where Teresa’s eyes were half closed, looking down with a faint smile tugging at her lips, her hair falling in front of her face. It did not look exactly like Teresa, but it embodied the way Teresa made her feel. “It looks so soft and …gentle.” She said it like she could not believe someone could see her that way. 

“You were soft with me last night,” Irene said quietly. “You were patient.” She looked up at Teresa’s kind eyes. 

“I just wanted you to feel safe,” Teresa said. “I know how nervous you were.”

“You were incredible.” Irene blushed. “It was all incredible.”

“You were pretty incredible yourself,” Teresa smirked, glancing back at Irene before studying the sketch further. “And this is incredible, too. I mean, the emotion is so moving. It’s...Do I really make you feel this way?” She sounded so surprised, so pleased. 

Irene nodded, gathering her courage. “Yes, it is. You make me feel...well, I’ve never felt this way before.” She looked up into Teresa’s dark eyes. “I...this might be too soon for me to say,” she began, heart thudding loudly in her chest. She wondered if Teresa could hear it, feel it. “But...I love you.” 

The words hung in the air for a short, terrifying moment.

“I know.” Teresa’s face was utterly serious. 

“What?” Irene blinked in surprise. 

“I know that you wouldn’t have shared what you did last night if you didn’t love me,” Teresa explained gently. “I know you.” She placed the sketches down on the coffee table and knelt in front of Irene. “Yes, it hasn’t been very long, and I know that you’re scared by how fast we’ve gone. And I’m sorry...I’m sorry if I ever made you feel pushed.”

“No, never,” Irene assured her. “I made the decision on my own. You’ve never made me feel pressured.” 

Teresa nodded, never losing eye contact. “I don’t know if I will say or do the right things to help you, but I will always try.” Feeling very vulnerable, Irene looked away from Teresa’s eyes. “I’m not ready to say it back yet, and I’m so sorry for that.” Teresa bit her lip. “The last person I said that to was Clare’s father, and I haven’t said it to anyone else since. It’s a little scary.” 

“It’s okay,” she said, turning back to look at Teresa. “I don’t want to push you either. I didn’t say it so that I could hear it back. I just...wanted you to know.”

“Irene, I’m never going to lead you on, okay?” Teresa stood back up so that she could lean over and kiss Irene gently on her forehead. “I never want to hurt you or make you feel like you’re giving more to this than I am.” 

“I know. I trust you.” 

She tried not to be disappointed that Teresa had not said she loved her. It was not unexpected. Teresa was hard to crack. Irene knew that Teresa cared deeply for her, and she knew she had to be patient. She could not let her insecurities or her nightmares get the best of her. 

“That means a great deal to me.” Teresa pulled Irene up and into a tight embrace, and Irene could feel her desire becoming stoked again. “Do you still want me to cook you breakfast?” Teresa asked, lips close to Irene’s pointed ear. “Or...we could do something else instead?” 

Irene shivered as Teresa’s breath ghosted over her skin. “What did you have in mind?” She hated that she was unable to keep her voice steady. Teresa’s teeth nipped her earlobe, and one hand pressed into the small of her back as the other slid down to rest on her rear, pulling her closer. Irene bit her lip, eyes closing, remembering that she was completely naked under Teresa’s robe. Her hands clenched, bunching up the fabric of Teresa’s shirt. 

“Maybe we could move back to the bedroom?” Teresa took a step backwards, pulling Irene along with her. She moved her lips down to Irene’s neck, nipping lightly.

“Teresa-”

“No hickeys,” she said against Irene’s skin. “I remember.” 

“We don’t need that kind of attention right now.” Irene was proud of how coherent and intelligent that sentence sounded. It was quite impressive considering that Teresa’s lips were now moving lower, over her collarbone and across her sternum.

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right.” Teresa nipped at the skin between Irene’s breasts. “But no one will see them here.” 

_ No one will see them under the uniform. You can heal them anyway. _

Irene arched her back, pressing herself into Teresa’s lips, hands taking hold of her hair. “God, Teresa.”

“I have a rule against having sex in the same room where Clare watches TV, so let’s move this to the bedroom now.” Teresa spun them around and pushed Irene down the hall.

That night when she slept alone at her home, her dreams came back in force. In her dreams, when Teresa touched her, it was carefully, mindful of her scar, her stitches, her wound. 

In her dreams, they were the monsters.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legit almost forgot to post today, oops. As always, thanks to my beta, shelter!

Her phone rang as she was grabbing breakfast. Teresa.

“Hey, can I call you ba-”

_ “I’m so sorry, Irene,” _ Teresa interrupted. 

Irene frowned, standing up straight. Whatever was about to happen, she knew it was not going to be good.

_ It's over, Irene. Time to move on. You knew this couldn’t last forever.  _

“Teresa, what do you mean?” she asked slowly, stomach clenching painfully, mind running in circles.  _ For your Crimes against the Organization _ … She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry for what?”

_ “You haven’t gone outside yet, have you?” _

“No, I'm running a little late today. I was just about to leave.” She made her way to the kitchen window to look outside. There were at least fifteen people with cameras standing outside her door. “Shit.”

_ “I’m sorry,” _ Teresa repeated, voice pained.  _ “They caught a picture of us kissing outside that coffee shop Tuesday and now it’s all over the tabloids. I’m sorry.” _

Irene closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, trying to keep her breathing calm. So it had finally happened. They had slipped up. It had been inevitable. 

_ No one could hide something like that from the Organization for long... _

But no, that wasn’t right. They had known this would happen, had prepared for it. They would be fine. They had to be fine. 

“Stop apologizing, Teresa,” she said. Teresa sounded fearful and nervous, so unlike her normal self, and somehow that gave Irene strength. After all, she did spend her work hours handling financial crises. “We knew this was going to happen eventually.”

_ “I know, but I thought we would have more time.” _ She sighed heavily, the noise crackling over the speaker. 

“It’s all right. We can handle this,” Irene assured her, confident in her words. _ If they had survived the transformation into silver-eyed witches... _ “I’m not going to bolt. I promise.” She steeled herself and headed for the door, down to the hostile photographers on the street. Despite her words to Teresa, she was not eager to dive into the fray. “I’m about to walk outside, so...”

_ “Okay. Call me later. I...You still need to meet Clare. _ ” They had been planning on having a nice private dinner later that week for that very reason. She was already incredibly nervous, knowing how important it was that Clare liked her, and this added pressure would not help. If Clare ever thought that it was Irene’s fault that she was harassed and heckled, that could make things difficult. 

“I have no desire to cancel our dinner,” Irene said firmly. She paused at the door. There would be no turning back now.  _ But what were a few paparazzi when compared to facing an awakened being? _ Irene braced herself, as if for battle. “It’s going to be okay, Teresa.”

_ “I know. I’ll talk to you later. Just...remember, they’ll get tired of this soon enough. We just have to endure it for a little while.” _

“Okay. Bye. "

Immediately after she opened her door, she was bombarded with questions and people shouting her name and cameras being shoved in her face. She held up her hand to shield her face as she pushed through the small crowd.

“Irene!”

“Irene! Have you always been a lesbian?”

“How did you meet?”

“How long have you been dating Teresa?”

“Do you and Clare get along?” 

Irene turned around and faced the photographer who had asked that. “Leave her daughter out of this,” she growled fiercely. “She’s just a kid.” 

Before any of them could reply, she wheeled around and marched to the cab she had waiting for her. 

“You okay miss?” the driver asked.

She leaned back and sighed. “I’m fine, thank you.” She told him where to go and rubbed her brow, wondering how long it would take for things to calm down. 

There was another mob, bigger this time, waiting for her outside her work. Resolutely, she pushed her way through them and into the building. The security guard asked her if she was all right, and she brushed off his concern, frustrated that she had been delayed even further. 

Just when she thought her day could not get worse, Flora walked out to meet her before she could get very far into the office, her face pale and drawn.

“Your father’s here.” 

Irene nearly dropped her briefcase.

“What?” she hissed, pulling Flora aside. “Here? Why?” Instead of answering, Flora held up a magazine with Irene and Teresa kissing on the cover. Their identities were very clear. “Goddammit.”

“He’s not happy.”

“I would imagine not.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Where is he?”

“Waiting in your office. I tried to keep him out, but-”

“No, it’s all right. This day is shit already, and it’s only eight.”

“Should I cancel your meetings?”

“No.” She sighed. “No reason for that. I’ll just have to handle this.” 

“I’m here for you, Ms. Winters. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you, Flora.”

Irene grimaced before bracing herself to walk into her office and face her father. 

When she opened the door to her office, he turned from his place by the window, scowling deeply, his eyes flashing dangerously.

“Hello, Father,” she said stiffly, shutting the door carefully. “It’s been a while since you visited me here. How’s business? The housing market’s up. You must be happy.” 

He had clutched in his hands the same magazine that Flora had shown her. He held it up, raising a brow.

“What the hell is this?”

“I believe it’s the latest issue of  _ Us Weekly _ ,” she said coolly. “I didn’t take you for a gossip rag enthusiast.” 

“I’m not in the mood for your attitude, Irene.” 

She gritted her teeth against a growl, and stepped behind her desk to put herself in a position of power, something she had learned from him. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see why it is that you’re trying to ruin your reputation.” 

Irene sat heavily in her chair, folding her hands on her desk. “And how exactly am I doing that?” 

“By gallivanting around with this...this...woman!” His voice was raised now, but she did not flinch, did not think about the fact that all of her employees would be able to hear him, undercutting her authority.

“I hardly see how it’s any of your business,” she said, voice low. She would not rise to his bait. “It’s not like she’s the first woman I’ve ever dated.” 

She had come out to her parents after her suicide attempt as part of her therapy. They had not handled it as well as she would have liked, but they had not disowned her. Her mother, at least, had eventually come around to it, but her father just pretended that part of her life did not exist. Irene was, in all other aspects, the perfect daughter. Her romantic endeavors had been so few and far between that her father had not felt the need to comment on them. 

Now, however, it was out for the entire world to see. And with an actress, too.

“The others were reputable, at the very least,” he snapped. Yes, they had been daughters of other elite families, well respected, Ivy League educated. Teresa was nothing like them, and that was why Irene loved her. “This one-” he gestured wildly with the magazine “-is only using you.”

"To what end? She has money. She doesn't need mine." 

“For publicity, of course.”

“Oh yes, the great publicity of secretly dating.” 

“Stop being so naive, girl.” He leaned threateningly over the desk. “I didn’t think you would be stupid enough to fall for that.” 

Irene’s nostrils flared as she continued to struggle against her temper. It took quite a lot to get her riled up, but once she was, it took even longer for her to calm back down.

“I’m not a child, so stop treating me like one. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re being foolish, Irene. Just look at how your brother threw away his life! We worked so hard to give you everything, and now you’re just going to shove it in my face.”

“Get out.” She stood, her impressive height putting her at eye level with her father. 

“Excuse me?”

“I said ‘get out.’” She’d had enough. Enough of his judgment, enough of his disapproval. 

“How dare you-”

“No, how dare  _ you _ ,” she snarled. “How dare you come into the place where I work, undermine my authority with my employees, and berate me about my personal life when you can’t even gather up the courage to call your own son to see how he is. Did you even know that Elda is pregnant?” His jaw dropped, answering her question. “That’s right. She’s due any day now, but you didn’t know that because you pushed him away for no other reason than her family wasn’t wealthy.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“And why would he?” Irene was on a roll now. “You don’t deserve to know the child. You don’t deserve to know Teresa, either, for that matter. I will date whomever I want to, with or without your approval. You can disown me if you like, but I love Teresa, and I will choose her over you any day.” He was now shaking with silent anger, mouth opening and closing much like a fish out of water. “So get out of my office before I call security. You have no authority here.” 

Her father seemed to snap to his senses. “Are you threatening me?”

“I believe I am.” Her hand hovered over the call button, ready to summon security if she needed. She had the power here. She called the shots. She wouldn’t take orders from men anymore. Not from her father, not from the Organization...“Do not push me. Walk out of here with some dignity left, or I will make you regret it.” 

“We’re not finished here, Irene,” he hissed. “We’ll discuss this later.” 

“No, we won’t.” She was done catering to his whims. “Don’t contact me again unless it’s to apologize.”

His lip pulled back in a snarl before he threw open the door to her office and stormed out, the eyes of her employees following him the entire way. 

Irene watched him go, breathing hard, but feeling exhilarated. She had never stood up to him in such a way, and it felt good to tell him exactly what she thought of him. 

Flora entered the office carefully and asked her if she was okay.

“I’m fine.” Irene shut the door behind Flora and then slumped in her chair, rubbing her temples. “I’ve never spoken to him like that.”

“You were very impressive,” Flora said. “And if it’s not too bold to say, I think he’s wrong. About Ms. Blackwell, I mean.”

“I do, too.” Irene took a breath to steady herself. “Do you still have the statement we prepared?”

“Of course.”

“Release it.” She leaned her head back and let out a sigh. “I will only be accepting calls from the board or clients today. Everyone else is to get the canned answer.” Flora nodded, jotting down a few notes. “Tell any reporters to refer to our statement until I get a chance to really talk with Teresa. I’ll let you know when that is.”

“Is that all?”

“For now. Today is going to be awful,” she warned. “I appreciate your professionalism, Flora. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Thank you, Ms. Winters.” She gave a nod before leaving the office, shutting the door behind her. 

Irene groaned and rested her head in her hands. This had not been the way she had wanted her father to find out, but she supposed she only had herself to blame. There had been plenty of time for her to warn him. Still, it was time for him to stop being so damn high and mighty. 

Her cell phone buzzed, startling her out of her thoughts. She looked down at the screen. It was her brother.

“Hello, Paul,” she said tiredly. 

_ “I saw the news, Ren. How’re you holding up?” _

“Father came to see me this morning,” she replied, knowing that would sufficiently answer his question.

_ “Damn. I’m sorry.” _

“It’s all right.” She grimaced slightly. “I told him about the baby. I’m sorry, Paul. It just slipped out. I don’t know if you wanted him to know”

_ “He would have found out eventually.”  _ Paul was so much more laid-back than she was. Almost like they had different parents.  _ “And I’m kind of glad I wasn’t the one who told him. Thanks for taking that bullet for me.” _

“You owe me, then.”

_ “Hey, Ren, Elda and I were talking and...If she’s well enough, you know with the baby and all, we’d like you and Teresa to spend Thanksgiving with us.” _ They would not be able to go to Chicago like they normally did because of the baby. It touched Irene that Paul would be willing to open his home to them. She supposed she should not have been surprised.  _ “I know you’re not big on the whole family thing, but...we’d love to have you. Both of you.” _

“You just want to meet Teresa Blackwell,” Irene said, trying to cover the lump in her throat. 

_ “Well, that’s part of it,”  _ Paul admitted.  _ “But I also want you to know that we’re here for you.” _

“I appreciate that, Paul. I’ll have to talk with her about it. She usually spends it in Texas with her family.”

_ “Well, you can still come on your own and see your new niece.” _

Irene smiled, glad to have at least something good happen to her that day. “I would love to. Thank you. How’s Elda holding up?”

_ “She keeps telling me that she looks like a whale, and then gets mad at me when I say she’s beautiful,” _ he lamented. 

“I’ve heard that can happen with pregnant women,” Irene said awkwardly. 

_ “That’s what they tell me,”  _ Paul sighed.  _ “I’ll be glad when she pops the kid out. Of course, then we’ll be getting little to no sleep. A perfect win-win situation.” _

Irene smirked at the humor in his voice. “Better you than me.” 

_ “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, we’re here if you need anything, Ren. Just remember that.” _

“I will. Thank you, Paul.” 

_ “Of course. I gotta run. Love you.” _

“You too. Bye.”

Irene sat back in her chair and sighed. Well at least one person had her back. Besides Teresa, of course. Thanksgiving with Paul and Elda sounded appealing. She doubted she would be able to get Teresa to go, but even alone, it would be preferable to her normal Thanksgiving routine of a frozen dinner and an evening spent going over briefs. 

Right before lunch, her phone rang again. This time it was Teresa.

“Hey.” Irene felt no need to hide the fatigue in her voice.

_ “You’re coming straight over to my place after work tonight. No arguments.” _

“Is that wise?” Irene asked. “What about Clare?” This was not the right way to meet the girl, and Irene worried about controlling herself. In this situation, could she be the mature adult who did not show her jealousy over a child?

_ “I sent her to her father’s. I didn’t want her to be so exposed to the media.” _

Her father. Irene cursed silently. Teresa had not told Chris about them before this.

“How is Chris taking all this?” she asked cautiously.

_ “Better than I expected,” _ Teresa replied.  _ “He was a little miffed that I didn’t tell him myself, but he understood the reasons. He’s going to take Clare to his parent’s house for the weekend. Get her out of the city and away from everything.”  _

“Won’t coming over just be taunting the paparazzi?” Irene wanted to spend the night with Teresa. She certainly did not want to be alone. But she worried. 

_ “I really don’t care. I mean, it’s out there, so why hide anymore? I want to start waking up with you next to me more often.” _

“That does sound nice,” Irene admitted. “Okay then. I’ll come over.”

_ “Okay, well I know you’re busy, so I’ll let you go now. I’ll be at home all day, so when you’re heading over, call or text.” _

“All right. I’ll call you. Bye.”

_ “Bye.” _

Early that afternoon, the CEO of the firm stopped by to see her. Irene was apprehensive, but he offered his support. Irene had been good for the firm, and he had made sure the board of directors knew this media attention would not hurt their earnings. 

After he left, Irene decided to take a walk around the office, checking in on her employees, making sure they were all able to handle the situation. She knew that it affected them as well as herself. Perhaps not to the same extent, but enough that it could interfere with their productivity. Irene was pleased to find that most of them had supportive words for her and appreciated that she was taking the time to speak with them. 

Flora, especially, spent her day running circles around Irene, keeping the phones under control and fielding all sorts of questions. Irene watched her with fond pride. She really was more than just an assistant. 

Irene texted Teresa around 5:30 pm to say that she was about to leave and gathered herself to face the herd of photographers that were waiting for her outside the doors of the lobby. As soon as she stepped outside, she was bombarded with questions and flashes in her face, but she moved resolutely forward. The security guard was kind enough to ferry her through, pushing back the photogs and helping Irene into the cab she had called. She thanked him before shutting the door and giving the driver Teresa’s address. 

As she sat back against the seat, Irene was very glad that Teresa had insisted she come over. It had been a long, hard, exhausting day, and she really wanted nothing more than to just relax on the couch next to Teresa and pretend like nothing was out of the ordinary. 

That illusion was shattered when the cab pulled up to Teresa’s building, and an army of photographers surrounded her. Resolutely, she opened the car door and pushed her way through, ignoring the questions and hiding her face as best she could until the doorman rescued her. 

“Are you okay?” he asked as they stepped inside, shutting out the paparazzi. 

“Yes, thank you.”

“They’re not going to leave now,” he said thoughtfully.

“I know. They’ll be waiting for me.” 

_ Waiting for a slip that would tumble the top two warriors... _

Teresa greeted her with a tired smile and a tight hug. Irene practically melted into her arms, molding her body to Teresa’s.

“Hey,” she said into Teresa’s neck, letting her eyes flutter shut. 

“Hey.” Teresa pressed her face into Irene’s hair. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Tiring.” Irene sighed and pulled back, letting Teresa lead her over to the couch. “The CEO came by to see me.”

“Oh. Is everything okay?” Teresa’s voice was spiked with worry. “This isn’t going to hurt you at work, will it?”

“No. He said the board was a little concerned, but he was able to appease them when he reminded them how much money I pull in each quarter.” She kicked off her shoes and untucked her shirt as she curled her legs under her on the couch. “And, oh my God, my father came by.” 

She felt Teresa stiffen next to her.

“Did he freak out?”

“I’m still in the will as far as I know, but it was not pretty.” She leaned back against Teresa who wrapped her arms loosely around Irene’s waist. “He said I was being naive. That you were using me.”

“He obviously doesn’t know you well,” Teresa commented, though she frowned. “You’re the one calling all the shots here.” 

Irene smiled wryly. “No, he doesn’t know me at all.” She shivered slightly as Teresa’s hands ran through her hair. “I suppose I should have told him myself instead of letting him find out this way.”

“Would his reaction have been any different?”

“I think he felt humiliated that he had to find out in such a way,” Irene mused. “He would still have been angry, but not to the same extent. He wouldn’t have been happy unless I was dating someone he hand-picked.”

“Well, I’m making lasagna for you,” Teresa said. “Does that make it better?”

“It certainly helps.” Irene smiled and leaned her head on Teresa's shoulder. “What about your day?”

Teresa sighed. “Well, I lost out on a role to my nemesis.”

“You have a nemesis?”

Teresa smiled tightly, and Irene saw for the first time the lines around her eyes. “Yeah. This younger actress who came on the scene a few years ago. Priscilla Rose.”

The name tickled something at the back of Irene’s mind-- _ a screaming one-horned monster and dead comrades _ \--and she shifted uncomfortably. 

“I’m sorry about the role.” She rubbed her chest. Why did it ache as if she had been cut? “Was it a good one?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. But it’s not important. It’s nothing compared to your day.” Teresa kissed her neck. “You deserve some relaxation.”

Irene was about to stand and get herself a glass of water when the phone rang. “Shouldn’t you get that?” Irene said when Teresa made no motion to get up.

“I’ll call them back,” she said. The phone continued to ring a few more times before Irene looked over.

“It’s your mother,” she said as she saw the name.

Teresa cursed and struggled to remove herself from Irene. She scrambled over to the phone, picking it up and putting it to her ear.

“Mama? Hey.” She gave a little eye-roll for Irene. “Yes, Mama, I saw. Mhm...I know...She’s all right. She’s with Chris. He took her to his parents’ house...Of course he was upset, Mom.” Another eye-roll. Irene also noticed that Teresa’s accent, which had just an ever-so slight hint at southerness, was becoming more and more pronounced as she talked with her mother. “Yeah, he just found out that his ex-wife is dating women now. Men tend to not take that well.”

“You told me he took it fine,” Irene protested, but Teresa waved her quiet, pacing around the room.

“I know, I know.” Teresa nodded a few times despite the fact that her mother could not see her. “It’s not like I asked for this...Yeah.” She glanced back at Irene. “I think she’s doing okay, too.” Irene realized that they were talking about her now, and she was touched that Teresa’s mother cared enough to ask about her. “No, it’s a relief kind of to not have to hide it anymore... Yeah... Hopefully some starlet will get caught with cocaine or something, and they’ll forget about us.” The timer on the oven beeped. “Hey, Mama, can I call you later? Like, tomorrow? ...Because I have to get dinner out of the oven...” Whatever her mother said in reply made Teresa blush. “Yes, she’s here.” Teresa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before looking back at Irene. “She says ‘hello.’”

“Tell her I say ‘hello’ back,” Irene replied awkwardly.

“She says ‘hello’...God, Mom. I’m not telling her that.” Teresa’s blush deepened, and Irene felt a smile spreading across her face. “Mom, no... Because that’s embarrassing!...Fine.” She sighed, frustrated, and faced Irene. “She says that the jacket you were wearing in the picture has a loose button and that you should probably get that fixed.” 

Irene raised a brow. “Well, tell her I appreciate that. I really love that jacket, and I would hate it if I lost that button.” She grinned at Teresa’s scowl.

“Well, aren’t you two just BFFs now.” She sighed before returning to the call. “She says ‘thanks.’ No, you can’t talk to her...No, Mom!...Because I actually want her to stick around, and you’ll just scare her off...I have to go, Mama...I have to get the food out of the oven...No, I’m not just saying that to get you off the phone...You’ll just have to trust me...Bye, Mama...Love you, too.” She hung up and let out a frustrated growl. “That woman will talk your ear off.” Teresa put her phone on the counter and walked into the kitchen to pull out the lasagna. 

“Why didn’t you let her talk to me?” Irene asked.

“Believe me, I was sparing you,” Teresa called from the kitchen. Irene got up to join her, pulling out dishes and silverware. “She would have never let you go. I think she likes you.”

“She’s never met me.”

“That doesn’t matter to her. She thinks that she’s best friends with Martha Stewart because they met once at a charity event I did,” Teresa explained as they sat. “She talks about her like they hang out everyday. Her and Judge Judy. God.” Teresa shook her head and smiled.

“Well, I’m just glad she’s handled this all so well.”

“That’s true,” Teresa agreed. “It could have been a lot worse.”

“Oh, um....I meant to ask you,” Irene began, getting Teresa’s attention. “Paul called me today, and well, you don’t have to say yes, or anything, but they’re having Thanksgiving at home this year because of the baby and all...and he invited us to spend it with him. Both of us.”

“That’s very kind of him.”

“I told him you probably couldn’t come, you know, because you’ll be in Texas, but...yeah.” Irene did not know why she felt so nervous about Teresa’s answer, but she fidgeted with her napkin while she waited. 

“I want to, Irene, but my mother would be devastated if I skipped out this year,” Teresa said gently. 

Irene nodded and looked down at her plate, not terribly surprised, but still disappointed. 

“I understand.” She gave Teresa a small, only slightly strained smile. “I thought as much.”

“Hey, Irene, I really do wish I could,” Teresa said sincerely. “I want to meet your family. Or at least the part that approves of me. Please let Paul know how much I appreciate the invitation.”

“I will.” Her smile became more natural as Teresa reached across the table to take her hand. 

They settled back to the couch after dinner for a movie, Irene’s body slowly letting out the tension of the day as Teresa stroked her side gently. She had changed into the spare set of pajamas that she kept in Teresa’s room, and she and Teresa were curled up under a blanket with the lights dimmed. Irene felt no need to do anything but just sit together, enjoying each other’s company. Despite everything going on, she felt more at peace than she had in a long time. The fears that had plagued her for so long seemed dim and distant now. 

“Hey, Irene?” Teresa asked quietly as the credits started rolling.

“Hmm?”

“I want to tell you something.”

Irene twisted her head around to look at Teresa. The other woman was biting her lip, a little apprehensive. 

“I love you.”

Irene blinked twice before leaning up to kiss Teresa. 

“I know,” she said after pulling back, echoing Teresa’s words to her. She was teasing, but it was true. She knew it the same way she knew which way was up. Instinctively and completely. 

“Oh, do you?” Teresa raised a brow.

“Mhm. I’ve just been waiting for you to say it.” She shifted so that she could face Teresa better. “You do so much that makes it so obvious, but I know the words are hard for you to say.”

“I should have said them before all this crap happened,” Teresa said apologetically. “You’ve been so patient with me. I know how hard it must have been to have said it to me without hearing it back.”

“I understand,” Irene told her. “And now we’re even.” She kissed Teresa again, letting her hands rest on Teresa’s neck as the other woman’s arms came around her waist. “I love you, Teresa,” she whispered against her girlfriend’s lips.

“I love you, too, Irene.” She felt Teresa’s lips pull into a smile against her own, and was content to spend the rest of her night in Teresa’s arms. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my bet, shelter!

Irene smoothed her shirt nervously, wondering if it had been the right choice. 

Then she chastised herself. Clare was eleven for goodness sake. It didn’t matter what Irene was wearing. 

She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. It took eight seconds for Teresa to answer with a wide, beaming smile.

“Hey.” She leaned in to give Irene a short, chaste kiss before stepping back so that Irene could walk into the hallway. “You look nervous.” 

Irene glared at her. “I  _ am _ nervous, you ass.”

Teresa grinned. “She doesn’t bite. At least, not anymore. We trained her out of that when she was seven.” 

Teresa steered Irene into the living room where Clare was sitting on the couch. She was a bit short for her age, with chestnut hair and bright eyes, and Irene had to choke back a gasp. Clare looked exactly like the girl from her dreams, the girl with fire in her heart. Irene could only contemplate this for a moment before Teresa was introducing them.

“Clare, this is Irene.” The girl stood cautiously and held out her hand for Irene to take. Clare’s grip was stronger than she had expected. 

Irene could not understand why Clare would be in her dream. Had she seen the girl in the pictures that hung on Teresa’s walls? That had to be it. A perfectly logical explanation that she knew was not true. She had dreamed of Clare before ever stepping foot in Teresa’s home. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Clare,” she said, managing a proper sentence, still shaken. 

“Yeah, you too.” The child seemed nervous and apprehensive, her eyes narrowing as she studied Irene. 

Irene felt her own awkwardness grow, and she glanced back at Teresa.

“Okay, well dinner is just about ready, so let’s move this to the dining room, shall we?” Teresa asked, clapping her hands together. She ushered Clare and Irene to the table, making them sit while she left to get the food. Irene and Clare both stared after her, horrified that she had left them alone together. 

Pushing down her panic, Irene decided she had to be the adult. 

“So, um, Clare,” Irene began, bringing the girl’s eyes back to her. “What grade are you in?” It was a stupid, impersonal question that she probably got all the time, but it was the best Irene could think of at the moment. 

“Sixth.” Clare did not elaborate.

“Oh, so is that middle school yet?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a favorite subject?” Irene really wished that Teresa would come back and rescue her.

“Art.”

“Oh, really?” Thank God. “I took a lot of art classes in school.” 

This seemed to pique Clare’s attention. “Do you draw?”

“When I have time,” Irene said, feeling more relaxed. This was Teresa’s daughter. This girl would be her family if she and Teresa lasted. She had to try and foster this relationship. “It’s hard to find the time now because of work.”

“That sucks.”

Irene mulled over that. “I suppose it does.”

“What do you draw?”

“Mostly people.” She left out the fact that for the last couple of months, it had been mostly Clare’s mother. 

“I like to draw horses,” Clare said. “I’m not as good at people.” 

Irene smiled. It had been the same for her at that age. “I can give you some pointers, if you want,” she offered. 

Clare returned her smile. “Really? Thanks.” 

Teresa picked that moment to return, placing a salad bowl on the table. “Just got to get the chicken out of the oven,” she informed them before dashing back into the kitchen. Irene watched her go, admiring her fluid grace. 

“Mom said you worked in business,” Clare said, pulling Irene back. 

“I do. I help run a rather large firm.”

Clare nodded, but Irene could tell she really did not know what that meant. “Do you make a lot of money?”

“Yes.” 

“More than Mom?”

“That’s not really important.”

Clare considered this for a moment, and in the lull in conversation, they heard Teresa curse in the kitchen. “That happens all the time,” Clare informed Irene. “She gets ahead of herself. I’m not supposed to repeat any of those words, either.” 

Teresa came back, carrying a platter of chicken, placing one on each of their plates. It would never cease to amaze Irene that Teresa was a good cook.  _ They had no need for it as warriors... _

“There we go,” Teresa said, sitting down. “All right, dig in.” Irene smiled at her and speared some lettuce on her fork. “So, you two getting along?” Teresa looked very nervous for the answer. 

Irene glanced at Clare, who nodded as she chewed.

“Mhm. Irene likes to draw, too.”

“I know,” Teresa said, relaxing visibly. “She’s very good.”

“She’s going to help me, right?” Clare turned her questioning eyes on Irene.

“Of course,” Irene agreed, guilty that she had ever been so jealous of this child. 

“Good,” Teresa beamed. “I’m glad that you guys have something in common.” She looked as though she was going to say something further, but Teresa’s phone rang. “I’ll be right back.” Clare and Irene watched her with curiosity. 

“Who do you think that is?” Irene asked.

“I dunno. Probably her publicist.” 

As Teresa returned, they both realized Clare was wrong. “...and I know that’s not what...Mom, please, just let me...” Teresa sighed with frustration, pacing in and out of the dining room, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. “I really can’t talk right now, Mom...Because I have company...Yes...No, you can’t talk to her...When I’m sure you’re not going to embarrass me, so never...Yes...Yes...God, Mom, of course we’re still coming for Thanksgiving...No, she’s having it with her brother...Fine, I will...Uh huh...Yeah...okay, I love you, too. Bye, Mama.” She hung up and rubbed her brow. “Grandma says hi, Clare. And she says hi to you, too, Irene.”

“Oh, well, you should have let me talk to her.” 

Teresa was still keeping her family out of the picture as much as possible. Irene was unsure what that meant, but she chose to give Teresa the benefit of the doubt. 

“I’d rather your first conversation with her be in person, not over the phone,” Teresa said. “She’s more...well, she’s really not any less irritating that way, but she’s easier to handle.”

“So I have to wait until Christmas to talk to her?”

“It’s better that way, trust me.”

“Irene’s coming to Christmas?” Clare looked between them, and Irene could not decipher her expression. 

“Oh, yeah. I meant to tell you that earlier,” Teresa said sheepishly. “Grandma invited her, but then all this stuff with the press...it kind of slipped my mind.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable,” Irene said to the girl, “I don’t have to go. I can spend it with my brother. I don’t want to intrude.” 

Clare regarded her carefully while Teresa watched with anticipation. “No, it’s fine,” the girl said finally. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“You’ll know Irene better by then, I promise,” Teresa said. “I want you two to bond.” 

Clare gave her mother an odd look, one that Irene did not understand. “Okay.”

“Anyway,” Teresa continued, “I kind of want my mom to be so curious about you that she has no choice but to love you. I mean, she already likes you, but I want to make sure she doesn’t get a chance to make you uncomfortable until I’m there to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection,” Irene said lightly. 

Clare snorted. “You kind of do.” She shared a knowing look with Teresa. “Grandma can get kind of intense. And she never really liked Dad. She never said it, but even I could tell.”

“Clare,” Teresa warned, sounding very much like a mother. She raised an eyebrow and then turned to Irene. “Don’t worry about that. Mom’s not going to treat you like she does Chris.”

“I really do want her to like me,” Irene said softly. “None of my other girlfriend’s parents liked me.”

“Why not?” Clare asked. Teresa sent her a glare, but she was too focused on Irene to see.

“They all thought I was a bit...odd,” Irene said carefully. She had been too quiet or too arrogant or too cold. Nothing had ever fit. She kept her eyes on Clare. She had never told this to Teresa and did not really want to see whatever expression was on the other woman’s face. She shrugged. “But I suppose it all turned out fine because now I’m here.” She looked at the other two and then back at her plate. “Sorry. Now I’ve gone and made it awkward.” 

Teresa reached across the table and took her hand. “Not at all, love.”

“Speak for yourself,” Clare muttered. “All this mushy stuff is gross.”

“Oh hush,” Teresa told her playfully. “You like it just fine on those TV shows.”

“Yeah. Not when it’s my mom,” Clare countered. Irene thought she was actually going to like this girl. She had Teresa’s wit. “That’s fiction. In real life, it’s just gross.”

“Sorry to have offended you.” Teresa did not look sorry at all. In fact, she stuck out her tongue in the most childish manner.

“Oh, grow up, Mom,” Clare said, rolling her eyes.

“Is it always like this with you two?” Irene asked.

“Yes,” they answered simultaneously, and then they flashed matching grins. 

“Now I see the family resemblance,” Irene said. 

Both Clare and Teresa laughed. “We actually get that a lot,” Teresa said. “Clare doesn’t look much like me, but she has my mind.”

“I still haven’t gotten an apology for that,” Clare snipped. She smirked at Teresa, who rolled her eyes in return. She opened her mouth to retaliate, but the phone rang again. This time it was Irene’s.

Irene jumped up from the table when she saw the name. “Paul?”

_ “Hey, Ren. Elda’s gone into labor. I’m at the hospital now,” _ her brother said, sounding excited and frightened at the same time.  _ “She’s doing fine so far.” _

“Should I head over there?”

_ “I think we have a couple of hours, but come when you want.” _

“Do you want me to come?” Irene asked knowingly. “To keep you company and all that?”

_ “I mean, if you’re not too busy.” _

“I’ll be there in a half hour, okay?”

_ “You’re awesome, Ren,” _ Paul told her. 

“I know. All right, I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

_ “You, too.” _

Irene hung up and turned back to Clare and Teresa. “Elda’s having the baby.” 

Teresa smiled widely. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go on!” She said, shooing Irene away. “Go be with your family.” 

Irene leaned in and kissed Teresa right there in front of Clare, who made a few retching sounds.

“It was lovely to meet you, Clare. I hope next time we actually get more time. Teresa, I’ll call you later,” she promised before heading out the door. 

Once on the street, she hailed a cab. At the hospital, she quickly found Elda’s room, and had to dodge a few nurses who recognized her. Irene doubted she would ever become accustomed to being recognized like that. Teresa was such a big celebrity that it seemed the entire world knew of her new girlfriend. 

Luckily, the nurses seemed to have some level of professionalism and pointed her in the right direction. Paul was pacing outside when Irene got there. Before she could even open her mouth, he launched into an explanation.

“The baby’s in distress,” he said, the anxiety and fear clear on his face and in his voice. “They’re prepping her for a C-section right now.”

“It’s going to be okay, Paul,” she said, pulling him into a hug. “They do this all the time. Everything’s going to be fine. Elda’s healthy, the baby’s healthy, and there’s nothing to worry about.” 

He nodded against her shoulder. “I know. I know. I think I just needed to hear someone else say it.” He sighed and pulled back. “I’m just really freaking out.” A nurse stepped out of the room, interrupting them.

“Mr. Winters, we’re going to take her in now. You should come with me so we can put you in some scrubs.”

“I’m going in?”

“Of course.” The nurse smiled and Paul followed her, looking over his shoulder at Irene. Another nurse came up to her.

“Ms. Winters, you can wait in the waiting room. It’s much more comfortable.” 

Irene nodded and followed her, finding a chair in the corner next to a stack of magazines. She began shuffling through them, reading asinine articles about best dressed lists and horoscopes of celebrities. 

At the bottom of the pile, she came face to face with a picture of herself in a casual kiss with Teresa. She stared for a moment, eyes passing over the blurbs that surrounded the picture. All of them asked who the mystery woman with Teresa Blackwell was. The magazine promised an answer on the inside. Irene glanced around the waiting room. None of the occupants seemed to pay her any heed, so she brought the magazine to her lap and flipped to the instructed page. She had not actually read the article that had outed them, and she was curious, in a perverse way, of what it said. 

The article was by another picture of her and Teresa, much closer together this time. She grimaced, knowing that they should have been so much more careful. 

Bracing herself, she began to read.

_ Teresa Blackwell has always been known for her superb acting skills, impeccable fashion sense, and stunning good looks. But now all anyone can talk about is how she was caught outside the chic New York cafe, Zen Palate, locking lips with a woman. Our best investigators have been on the case.  _

_ The woman in question is thirty-four year old Irene Winters, daughter of William Winters, the real estate tycoon. Irene is currently running the Eastern branch of the goliath business firm, Pennington Global. She’s been an out and proud lesbian since her teenage years, but her personal life is mostly a mystery. _

_ Sources suggest that Winters met Blackwell at the annual Gala for Winters’ Ovarian Cancer Foundation. Winters started the foundation after her mother died. It is one of the largest foundations of its kind. Blackwell’s older sister also suffered from ovarian cancer before passing away at the age of twenty-two. Blackwell has since used her fame to bring attention to the hard-to-catch disease.  _

_ No one knows how long the two have been canoodling, but the relationship seems to be at least a couple of months along. A waitress at Zen Palate confirmed that Winters and Blackwell can often be seen eating there.  _

_ Despite the fact that she has a daughter from a previous marriage, not everyone is surprised to see Blackwell in a same sex relationship. Her marriage with National Geographic photographer Christoper Darren ended four years ago amid allegations that Blackwell had cheated. These suspicions were later confirmed by a statement from Blackwell. The actress never gave a name, but it has long been suspected that it was with one of the stylists on the set of her Oscar nominated movie,  _ The Invincibles _. This led to the dissolution of her already rocky relationship with Darren. The two are still on good terms for the sake of their daughter........ _

There was more left to read, but Irene sat frozen, her heart constricting at the new information. 

Teresa had cheated on Chris. That was why they had divorced. Why he had wanted one in the first place. The hand holding the magazine shook, and she swallowed hard. Her whole body felt numb, and she thought she might be ill. A cheater. Teresa was a cheater. Irene shuddered. What was the saying? Once a cheater, always a cheater. 

_ This was worse than before, worse than Teresa leaving her out of the blue... _

The hand on her shoulder startled her, and she dropped the magazine.

“Ms. Winters?” She looked up to see one of the nurses. “Your sister-in-law is out of surgery.”

Irene brought herself back to the present. “The baby?”

“They’re both doing fine,” the woman said. For a moment, Irene forgot her personal pain, and let a smile cross her lips. “A healthy baby girl.”

“Can I see them?”

“We want to give Elda a little while to recover. I’ll let you know.” 

Irene nodded. Once the nurse was gone, she leaned down to pick up the magazine, and her brief elation diminished as she remembered the new revelation. Sighing, she pulled out her phone and walked down the hall where she might have some privacy. When she was sure she was alone, Irene dialed Teresa’s number, knowing that she was waiting for news about the baby. 

The phone rang once...twice...three times...

_ “Hey, how’s Elda? How’s the baby?” _ Teresa’s voice made Irene’s stomach twist into knots, and for once it had nothing to do with her dreams. 

“They had to do a C-Section, but they’re both fine now,” Irene said, knowing that her voice was shaking and that Teresa would hear it. “I haven’t been in to see them, yet, but I needed to call you.”

_ “Irene,”  _ Teresa said cautiously.  _ “What’s wrong?” _

She took a deep breath. “While I was in the waiting room, I read the article about us.” 

“ _ Okay… _ ”

“You cheated on Chris.” There was silence for a few moments.

_ “Yes. I did.” _

“You didn’t think that was something you should tell me?” Irene struggled to keep her voice calm and steady. 

_ “I thought you knew.” _ Teresa sounded confused. 

“How would I have known?” Irene asked harshly. “I can’t read minds!”

_ “Everyone knows,” _ Teresa said.  _ “It was all over the magazines and the news when it happened. Nothing I do is private, I told you that at the beginning. I never thought that there was even a possibility that you wouldn’t already know.” _

Irene slumped against the wall, bringing her hand up to rub her brows. “I don’t...I don’t read the magazines. I never have. I don’t keep up with that kind of thing. You know that.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I know I’ve skirted around this before, but I’ve been...I’ve been cheated on.” 

Teresa sighed on the other end of the line.  _ “I’m so sorry, Irene. I didn’t know. God. I see why this would be so upsetting. How about I call Clare’s nanny, and I come over to your place and we talk about this?” _

“I don’t know when I’ll be done here.” She wanted to stay until she was sure Elda and the baby were all right. She was also unsure if she really wanted to have Teresa in her home when she felt so vulnerable. 

_ “I don’t care how late it is,” _ Teresa said firmly. _ “I won’t let you go to bed tonight without getting the full story. The magazines...they don’t know what really happened. Okay? Okay, Irene?” _ Irene could not answer for a moment.  _ “Please give me a chance to explain my side. Trust me enough for that.” _

_ She had trusted Teresa before and gotten burned. _

Shrugging her shoulders to dispel the thought, Irene nodded. “Okay. I’ll…I’ll let you know when I’m home.”

_ “You promise?” _

“Yeah. I promise.” She lost her nerve and hung up, leaning her head back against the wall before walking back into the waiting room. A nurse was there waiting to take her back to see Elda and Paul.

The baby was beautiful, but Irene could not fully appreciate the miracle of life. She was too distracted, too wound up, and she knew Paul could tell. Irene stayed with them for a while until she saw that Elda was ready to sleep, exhausted by the day’s efforts. She excused herself and walked down to the street with Paul.

“Are you okay, Ren?” he asked in the elevator. “You seemed a little distracted.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him with a small smile that she knew had to look forced. “Just some personal stuff.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“If she hurts you...” Paul let the threat hang in the air. They both knew there was little he would be able to do, but Irene still appreciated the sentiment. 

“It’s not like that. It’s just something we need to talk about.” At least she hoped so.

Paul wrapped her in a loose hug. “Thanks for being here today. I hope everything works out with Teresa. You seem so happy with her.” 

She nodded and gave his hand a brief squeeze before stepping outside to hail a cab. The ride back to her building was long and tense, and when she was in her kitchen she stared at her phone for a good half hour before texting Teresa. It was nearly eleven at night. 

**-I’m home now-**

_ -Okay. I’ll be there soon. _ -

After a moment and some debate, she got up to pour herself a glass of wine, hoping that it would relax her nerves despite the risks. It was half empty by the time Teresa knocked on the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Teresa’s eyes glanced around the place quickly, taking in the spartan decoration before landing back on Irene. “Where do you want to talk?”

“The living room.” She led the way, stopping in the kitchen for the rest of her wine before settling into one of the chairs placed around the seldom used television. Teresa glanced at the glass, but didn’t say anything. She seated herself into the one across from Irene, not too close, and looked apprehensively at her girlfriend. 

“I’m sorry, Irene.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure you are.” She had trouble keeping her voice steady. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

“Give me a chance to explain.”

“Explain why you cheated on your husband? Please, do explain that. Did you accidentally fall and end up with your face between someone else’s legs!”

Teresa flinched. “It’s not...it’s complicated. You don’t understand.”

“Make me understand.”

“Rosemary was working on the movie I was doing at the time,” Teresa began. “I was already upset because Priscilla Rose had started taking my roles. Plus, Chris and I were having a rough time. I know that’s not an excuse,” she said quickly as Irene opened her mouth to protest. “I know that. We had been having problems for a long time, and this girl was really getting under my skin. I wasn’t...I wasn’t in a good place. He was always gone, and I was always gone, and I never should have married him in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

“We got married because…God, because I thought I loved him and my parents didn’t approve, and I was young and defiant and stupid. And then Clare was born, and I felt like I had to try and make it work for her sake But I...It never felt right. Never. It always felt like something was missing. But I tried so hard to ignore that, and I thought when Clare was born, we would get better. I thought that was what I was supposed to do. But it wasn’t what I wanted.” 

Teresa took a moment to breathe deeply, keeping her eyes on Irene. 

“When I met Rosemary, my marriage was already over in every sense except the legal one. I know I should have waited, but I was so messed up, and she was very willing to take advantage of that. It was only a few times, and I told Chris as soon as I got back home, though I left out the part where I cheated with another woman. I...I didn’t want him to know. He took it better than I expected, but that was the end of it. He filed for divorce that week. It was amicable. There were no allegations, no mudslinging. I always assumed Rosemary was the one to tip off the press. She was...vindictive.” 

Irene sat stiffly in her chair. She was unsure what to think. Both women Teresa had mentioned tugged at something inside her. Priscilla’s name, especially, drew up a deep, instinctive fear that Irene only associated with her dreams. It was enough to almost make her forget her anger.

But she had to address what Teresa had done. 

“Irene? Please say something.” Teresa bit her lip nervously.

“I think I need some time,” Irene said quietly. 

She actually understood how Teresa could have gotten to that point in her marriage. She certainly did not approve, and as someone who had been in Chris’s position, she knew the sharp pain and loss of self infidelity caused, no matter what the state of their relationship had been. The part of her that had been hurt like that was suddenly scared of Teresa. Scared of how badly the other woman could hurt her now. 

“Oh. Okay.” Teresa nodded. Her entire body was coiled with tension, and she looked more frightened than Irene had ever seen her. _ More frightened than when they had been sent to kill Hysteria. _ “I understand.” She stood to leave.

“Teresa...” She turned her head back to look at Irene over her shoulder. “I need time. I haven’t made any decisions yet.” 

Teresa closed her eyes briefly. Irene could see she was shaking. “Okay. Just...I would never do that to you. I  _ could _ never do that to you.”

It took everything Irene had not to fold. “I’ll call you.” 

Teresa nodded once more, then let herself out. Irene sighed and went to get ready for bed. It took her hours to get to sleep and when she did, her dreams were frightening and stressful. The demon was back, and Irene knew it was after her. There was a warrior past her limits, a flash of blond hair, and a shocking spray of blood. And death. Always death.

She woke up feeling even less rested than she had before. 

Part of her was hurt that Teresa had not told her about the affair, but the rational part of her realized that it was because Teresa had honestly not thought that she needed to disclose that information. It was on her Wikipedia page. Irene had checked. It was common knowledge, and she could not blame Teresa for her own ignorance. 

Still, it would have been nice if Teresa had at least brought it up. It was still something they should have discussed. 

The larger part of her was more scared of the affair itself than Teresa’s lack of disclosure. She reasoned that Teresa’s marriage with Chris had never been strong, that her infidelity had been because she was unhappy and looking for comfort. It was not like what Irene’s ex had done to her. It was very different. It  _ had _ to be different. Because she really did not think that Teresa would do that to her. 

From all the small hints, from the way Teresa’s mother reacted to them, from the way Clare had regarded her at dinner, from the terrified look in Teresa’s eyes as she explained herself, Irene knew that their relationship, as short as it had been, was much deeper than it had ever been with Chris. She was certain of it. 

And that was what mattered.

Irene threw on some clothes and decided to walk around the city. She pulled a hat on over her ears, and wrapped a scarf around her neck, trying her best to hide her face. She walked for blocks and blocks, trying to clear her mind. Somehow, she found herself near Teresa’s building. Taking it as a sign, she pulled out her phone.

_ “Hey.” _ Teresa’s voice was small and apprehensive.

“Hey. I’ve been thinking.”

_ “Yeah. I...Have you...” _

“I’m still a little mixed up,” Irene admitted. “It’s a lot to take in.”

_ “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t think...I should have said something sooner.”  _ The sigh crackled over the receiver, and Irene almost missed the next words _. “I’ve messed this up again.” _

“Well, we can’t change the past. What happened, happened, and now all we can do is move on from that.” Irene was surprised by how sure she felt. The thought of breaking up with Teresa drew up an agonizing loneliness she never wanted to experience again. “It’s going to take a while for me to fully trust you again, but I want to give you the chance to let me try. I love you, and I like Clare, and I want to meet your parents, and I want you to meet Paul and Elda and the baby.”

_ “I want that, too. After I got home last night, I was so scared that I had really screwed this up.” _ Irene heard Teresa take a deep breath.  _ “I thought I had lost you again. I love you, Irene, and I know it’s going to be hard with all the media attention, and I am so sorry for that. I know it’s what I signed up for, but I know it’s not what you wanted for yourself.” _

“I can handle it, Teresa,” she said, and she actually believed herself. “I can do it.”

_ “Are you...Are you busy right now?” _

“No. I was taking a walk.”

_ “Where are you? I could come get you.” _

“No need. I’m actually just a few blocks from your building.”

_ “Oh. Well...you should come up. That is...if you want to. Clare’s at her father’s for the weekend.” _

Irene let herself smile. “Okay.” 

As she stepped into the building, she could not help thinking that the woman who died in her dreams was the woman who slept beside her at night. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Irene meets the parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my beta, shelter!

“But what if she hates me?” Irene asked again as they dragged their luggage through the airport. 

“Really, it’s my dad you should be worried about,” Teresa said, ushering Clare along in front of her. “Mom already likes you.” She had already spent the entire fight assuring Irene of this. 

“That’s not exactly making me feel better.”

“It’ll be fine, Irene,” Clare piped in. “If I like you, then Grandma will too. Or she’ll pretend she does to make me happy. And Pops will definitely like you. He likes quiet, which is why I don’t know why he married Grandma.” 

Teresa rolled her eyes.

“I’m just really nervous.” 

This mattered as much as Clare accepting her. And surprisingly enough, Clare really had accepted her. 

“I know,” Teresa said, giving Irene a small smile. “But you’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll make sure they’re nice to you. Mom already promised that she’ll tone it down a few notches.” 

They stepped out into the mild Texas air, so different from the harsh New York winter they had left behind. Irene Sighed and followed Teresa to the rental car counter. Teresa had, of course, insisted that she drive herself. It took longer than either of them would have liked.

“I just don’t understand,” Teresa complained as they piled in, luggage stuffed into the trunk. “I arranged this weeks ago. Why is it so hard for them to have the car I wanted?”

“It is the holidays,” Irene said diplomatically. “Mix-ups happen. Besides, you refused to use your actual name.” 

Teresa grumbled a bit more, but her mood improved vastly once she was on the road, navigating through Austin traffic with terrifying speed. Irene looked out the windows at the rows and rows of houses that passed by, her anxiety growing with each one. Each house brought her closer and closer to meeting Teresa’s parents. 

She had spent the last couple of months getting to know Clare, becoming a more fixed figure in the girl’s life. They got along rather well, despite Irene’s initial misgivings, though she kept herself at a distance, never trying to seem like another parent. Clare already had two of those, and she did not need another one. But Irene did now feel genuine affection for the girl, almost like they were connected. Since they had met, her jealousy had all but disappeared. 

“Remember Clare,” Teresa was saying. “‘Yes Ma’am, no Ma’am, yes Sir, no Sir.’”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clare muttered, crossing her arms in the back seat.

“They won’t be used to that New York attitude you were so quick to pick up. Be polite.”

Clare sighed heavily. “Fine.”

Teresa narrowed her eyes. “I liked it better when you were pretending you were nice for Irene.”

Clare stuck out her tongue in response. Normally, their interactions amused Irene, but her stomach was in knots as they drove through the suburbs. Soon, they turned into a very affluent neighborhood, and Teresa slowed down to pull up on the street in front of a large brick home. She put the car in park and shut off the engine. 

“Okay. We’re here.” She turned to Irene. “You’ll be fine.” 

Irene nodded and opened the door. She followed Teresa to the trunk to get her bag while Clare shrugged her backpack onto her shoulders. 

“Teresa, baby? Is that you?” 

They all looked up at the voice. A woman in her early sixties was walking down the steps of the house. If Irene had not already known, it would have been obvious that this was Teresa’s mother. Despite the fact that her hair was the same color as Clare’s, her face was almost exactly an older version of Teresa’s. 

“No, Mama. It’s Marlon Brando,” Teresa called back, but she smiled and met her mother with a hug. Teresa, even without heels, stood several inches taller than her mother.

“Hi Grandma,” Clare said from behind them.

“Oh, Darlin’, look how big you are!” She bent down to hug Clare. “I swear you get taller every time I see you.”

“That’s kind of how it works, Mama,” Teresa said as she pulled the luggage out.

“Your sarcasm is noted and unappreciated, Teresa.” She rolled her eyes, and Irene wondered if that was a genetically inherited trait. “Oh! And you must be Irene! Oh my goodness, Teresa did say you were tall.” Irene held out her hand, but was pulled into a tight hug instead. “None of that! It is so wonderful to finally meet you.”

“It’s good to meet you, as well, Mrs. Farrell.” 

Teresa had told her that like many actresses, she had changed her last name. Her agent had picked out Blackwell. 

“Honey, please. Call me Marianne,” Teresa’s mother insisted. “Mrs. Farrell is my husband’s mother, the old witch. May she rest in peace.”

“Grams isn’t dead yet,” Clare said in confusion.

“Wishful thinking, Darlin’.”

“Mama,” Teresa hissed. “Stop saying things like that about Grams!” She shut the trunk and locked the car. 

“The old harpy has it coming,” Marianne huffed, picking up Clare’s suitcase and ushering them all up the drive to the house. “She always does her best to make my life a living hell.”

“That’s because you never even tried to get along with her,” Teresa reminded her. “I hope you don’t plan on causing another scene this year. Last year’s turkey fiasco was enough to last me a lifetime, thank you very much.”

“She started it.”

“God, you two are worse than children.” Teresa followed her mother into the house, beckoning to Irene and leading her into the large kitchen. Marianne ignored her.

“John,” she called into the house. “They’re here.” 

When John Farrell walked in, Irene saw where Teresa got her height. He was a very tall man, with a slight build and a serious face. But his eyes softened and his mouth crinkled up into a smile when he saw his daughter and granddaughter. 

“How are my girls?”

“Pops!” Clare threw herself into his arms and hugged him tight. Irene stood awkwardly behind Marianne as John moved from Clare to Teresa. She felt out of place in the family reunion. 

_ Always out of place, even among the other warriors... _

“Dad,” Teresa said as she pulled back. “I want you to meet Irene.” She walked over and put her hand on Irene’s back, pushing her forward. 

Irene gave a small smile and held out her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sir,” she said as respectfully as she could. 

John took her hand in his, grasping it firmly. 

“The pleasure’s all mine, Irene,” he said, returning her smile. “It’s good to finally meet the person who’s been making Teresa so happy lately.” 

Irene blushed slightly. 

“She couldn’t stop talking about you at Thanksgiving,” Marianne said in a stage whisper for all to hear. 

Teresa glared at her. “Mom!”

“What?” Marianne held up her hands innocently. “It’s true.”

“Doesn’t mean that you have to tell everyone.” Teresa looked back at Irene apologetically. 

“Well, let’s get y’all settled in your rooms,” Marianne said as a way to change the subject. “Clare, honey, you know where your room is. Teresa, you and Irene can take the guest bedroom upstairs.”

Clare dashed up the stairs, and Teresa and Irene followed at a slower pace, lugging their bags up to the top floor. 

The room was spacious and well-decorated, though it did look as if it wasn’t used all that often. Teresa put her luggage on the bed, and Irene followed her lead. 

“I made y’all some snacks,” Marianne said, standing in the door. “I know that airplane food’s not so good.”

“They don’t serve food on such a short flight, Mama,” Teresa said as she started to unpack. 

“Well, then all the more reason for you to eat!”

“Fine. We’ll be down in just a bit, all right?”

“Okay, okay.” Marianne retreated, shutting the door gently behind her. 

Teresa turned to Irene. “So?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. You know them better.”

Teresa finished putting her clothes in the closet and cocked her head. “Well, I knew Mom would like you, and it seems I was right. And Dad reacted favorably. He’ll need more time to get to know you, though.”

“What about your brother?”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t know.” Teresa came and rested her hands on Irene’s shoulders. “He and I never really talk all that much, and when I told him, well...It wasn’t pretty.”

“I’m sorry,” Irene said softly. “I don’t want to come between you and your family.”

“Stop that. If he doesn’t like it, he can learn to deal with it,” Teresa said, placing a soft kiss on Irene’s lips. A knock on the door interrupted them, and they did not have enough time to break apart before Teresa’s mother stepped inside. 

“Oh,” she said, eyes wide, her hand coming up to cover her mouth daintily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Irene blushed furiously, looking down at her feet. _Caught, caught, caught!_ _They would have to stop, leave each other, maybe never see each other. And that was if they were even allowed to live--_ “I was just letting you know that your father’s taking Clare out to the stables for a few hours.”

“Okay, Mama,” Teresa said, and Marianne shut the door again. “Hey, Irene. Stop looking so mortified.”

Irene pressed a hand to her chest, wishing her emotions were under her control. Marianne wasn’t going to kill them. 

“But your mother-”

“Saw me kissing my girlfriend. No big deal.” Teresa placed a hand under Irene’s chin, lifting her face so that their eyes met. “Irene. It’s fine. She was a little startled, but that’s all. Everything is fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Now let’s go downstairs.” She placed her hands on Irene’s hips and steered her out the door. “I bet she’s made her famous spinach dip. You won’t want to miss this.” 

Teresa kept a hand on her back the entire way. 

They were just now getting back to a really good place in their relationship. Irene had started guarding herself again after discovering the reason for Teresa’s divorce. For weeks, she found reasons to stay a little more distant, claiming that she was busy with work, or that she needed to do something for Paul and Elda. But then the nightmares got worse. After a month of that, a month of Teresa being patient and understanding, Irene had let herself open up again, and the nightmares quieted. They were still there, but much more manageable. 

Teresa leaned over and kissed her cheek quickly before they stepped into the kitchen. Marianne was behind the counter, pulling cookies out of the oven.

“Mom,” Teresa groaned. “I told you I can’t have sweets. I’m getting ready for a role, and I have to be super fit.”

“Darlin’, you were blessed with the metabolism of a hummingbird,” Marianne said without sympathy as she placed the cookies on cooling racks. Teresa sat down on a stool at the counter and reached out to take one. Marianne slapped her hand away. “You’ll burn your mouth. And I thought you weren’t having any.”

“I lied.” Teresa patted the stool next to her, and Irene sat down. 

“Tell me, Irene,” Marianne redirected, pulling a bowl of dip out of the fridge. “Have you ever been to Texas before?” 

She brought out some crackers from the pantry and spread them on a plate next to the dip. Teresa immediately grabbed one and shoved it in her mouth. 

“Once. For business.” Irene folded her hands in her lap. “We didn’t get to see much of the city.”

“Which city?”

“Houston.”

“That place is a dump,” Marianne informed her.

“It is not,” Teresa said, taking another cracker. “You just don’t like it because that’s where Aunt Carol Anne lives.”

“She’s a judgmental hag, just like her mother,” Marianne said, leaning over the counter. “I hate your father’s family.” 

“I’ll admit, they’re not my favorite people,” Teresa agreed. “But I wish you would tone it down in front of Clare. They’re always good to her.” 

Marianne sighed deeply. “Oh, fine, Sugah. I’ll do my best. Here, Irene, try some of the dip.”

“It’s awesome,” Teresa said through a mouthful.

“Okay.” Irene reached out and took a cracker, got some dip and took a bite, though she wasn’t hungry. Two identical pairs of dark eyes watched her as she chewed. “That’s really good,” she finally said after swallowing.

“It’s my secret recipe. My Mama taught me and then I taught Teresa. She’s never made it for you?”

“No. Not yet.” Irene glanced curiously at Teresa. 

“I was going to, but.....” Teresa sighed. “I just don’t make it as good as you, Mama.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Marianne said with a smile. Irene could see the clear affection in her eyes as she looked at Teresa. To her surprise, it did not go away when she turned her gaze to Irene. “She’s really actually good at it. She’s just a perfectionist.”

Irene raised an eyebrow. “You? A perfectionist?” She thought back to Teresa’s bedroom, to the clothes strewn about, to the nightstand that almost always had an empty soda can atop it. The woman’s apartment was always in a state of dishevelment that could not all be blamed on Clare. 

“In my  _ craft _ , Irene,” Teresa stressed, placing a dramatic hand over her heart. “I take my craft very seriously.”

“Cooking is your craft?”

“It’s  _ a _ craft.”

“I’ll remember that in the future,” Irene said, taking another cracker. The dip really was good, and she didn’t want to be rude.

Marianne smiled. “Teresa told me that your brother and his wife just had their first baby.”

“That’s right,” Irene said, letting herself smile. “She’s really lovely, and a good baby, too. Not fussy or anything.”

“Well, honey, I sure hope you brought pictures.”

“I have some on my phone,” she said. “Oh, I think I left it upstairs.” She hopped off her stool and dashed up the stairs to dig around in her purse for her phone. Once she had it, she descended the stairs, stopping short when she heard Teresa and her mother talking.

“...very nice, Teresa. I’m really happy for you.”

“I’m just glad you like her. I was worried that it would be really awkward.”

“I can’t make any promises about your brother, but the rest of us are there for you, baby.”

“Dad, too? Every time I talk to him, he’s distant. I can’t tell if he’s okay with this.” 

Irene frowned. She had not known that Teresa was so worried about her father’s approval.

“He’s trying, sweetheart. He really is. It’s been tough on him, but he is happy for you. We can both see how this is so much better than it was with Clare’s father.”

“He has a name, Mom. And remember, that was my fault, not his. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, baby.” Marianne sounded tired, and Irene wondered if it was a conversation they’d had before. “But Irene is so much nicer. A better fit.”

“Yeah, she is.” Irene could almost imagine the dopey smile on Teresa’s face. “I really love her, Mama. I don’t want anyone to screw this up. Not me, and certainly not Matthew.”

“If Irene loves you like you think she does, then nothing your brother says is going to chase her away. He’s just a little touchy about the whole relationship thing. You know that.”

“Just because he can’t get a girl doesn’t mean that he can take it out on mine.” 

Irene decided that she had listened enough, and took the next step.

“I found it,” she called out, giving them time to stop talking before she entered the kitchen. She pulled up the pictures of Arlette and handed the phone to Marianne. 

“Oh, she is just too precious!” the older woman gushed. “Look at those eyes! And all that hair. Teresa was the same way. I swear she came out with more hair on her head than I have ever seen on a newborn.” 

Irene laughed.

“Well, Arlette’s must come from her mother because both Paul and I were bald.” She ran a hand through her hair subconsciously. “I suppose my side of the family doesn’t have as much to offer.” 

Marianne’s eyes swept quickly over Irene’s head, taking in the shining red hair.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Darlin’. I think it’s quite striking.”

“So do I,” Teresa added, her eyes crinkling in a smile. Irene hated that she blushed furiously at their words. The color in her cheeks just made Teresa smile wider. 

Irene coughed awkwardly. “I suppose. Though it’s been something of a disadvantage at work. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to establish myself. Even with my father’s name behind me, people didn’t want to take me seriously.” The red hair made her seem younger, she thought, less experienced. 

Teresa was looking at her with concern, while Marianne nodded in agreement.

“You’re preaching to the choir, honey. When I married Teresa’s father, I tried getting into the workforce, but it just never happened for me.” 

“That’s because the dinosaurs were still around, and you needed to stay home to guard the cave,” Teresa said with a smirk.

“That was only a few years before you were born,” Marianne shot back, raising a brow. “So I would watch my mouth if I were you.”. 

“It was ten years before I was born, Mama.”

“Are you calling me old?”

“I think that was heavily implied, yes.”

“You better watch it, young lady.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll make sure to give Clare a couple of chocolate bars right before you leave for the airport.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Teresa said, scandalized. “You know how hyper she gets!”

“Maybe then you’ll think twice before insulting your mother, who loves you so much.”

“Threats and then a guilt trip.” Teresa shook her head, impressed. “Well played.”

“Well, I see where Clare gets it,” Irene said as she took another cracker. 

“Her stunning wit?” Teresa clarified with a toss of her hair. 

“Her dripping sarcasm.” 

Marianne let out a sparkling laugh that sounded so much like Teresa’s. “That child is going to be a handful when she hits puberty.”

Teresa groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m still thinking about shipping her off to boarding school”

Irene tensed for a moment as unpleasant memories, real ones, tickled the back of her mind, and she looked down at her lap.

“Oh, Irene, I didn’t...” Teresa placed a hand on her knee and bit her lip. “I forgot you don’t like me to joke about boarding schools.” 

She turned back to her mother and mouthed something that Irene could not quite catch. She knew it had to be some sort of explanation because Marianne’s mouth formed a small ‘O,’ and she nodded. 

“It’s fine,” Irene assured them with a small smile. “And you don’t have to go whispering about it. It’s a typical sad little rich girl story. Parents who didn’t have time for me and all that.” She hated that Marianne’s eyes were filled with concern. Hated it and loved it at the same time. 

“Not that my mother didn’t love me or anything,” Irene added hurriedly. “She was just always working.”

“And your father?” Marianne asked before Teresa could stop her.

“Mom, the dad’s not a great subject,” Teresa hissed.

“It’s okay, Teresa. My father was busy running his little empire,” Irene said, regretting how much bitterness was able to creep into her voice. “He wasn’t --isn’t-- pleased with my...with what he calls my ‘life choices.’” She glanced at Teresa almost apologetically. She was not sure how Marianne really felt about the situation, if she was truly all right with Teresa dating a woman, and she was not sure if it was appropriate to discuss her own father’s lack of support. After all, she had only known Marianne for less than an hour. “He doesn’t approve.”

“Oh.” Marianne seemed to have some trouble finding what words to say, and Irene cursed her chronic social awkwardness. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s not that at all,” Marianne said, moving around the counter to take Irene’s hands in her own. Irene did not know how to react. The only person to invade her personal space in such a way was Teresa. “I just don’t really know how to respond to that without insulting your father.”

Irene looked into her eyes, which she saw now were a dark green instead of black like Teresa’s, and tried to make sense of what she was feeling. This woman she had only just met already cared more about her feelings than her own father. 

“You can insult him all you want,” Irene managed. “Teresa does all the time.” 

Marianne turned to glare at her daughter. “Have I taught you no manners at all?”

“Irene said I could!” Teresa protested. “Look, I’ll show you. Irene, your father is a selfish bastard who has a stick so far up his ass that Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t be able to find it.” 

Marianne stared at her daughter with wide, horrified eyes. “Teresa!”

“What?”

“That was incredibly-”

“True,” Irene finished, rescuing Teresa. “Everything she said is true. Really, I don’t mind. I wish I had the courage to say those things myself.”

Marianne shook her head disapprovingly, though Irene was unsure if it was at them or at her father. “Irene, I’m going to have to show you some true southern hospitality, then. Goodness.” She continued shaking her head as she walked back around to open the fridge.

“Oh no,” Teresa muttered.

“What?”

“She’s going to start pulling out the comfort food. If she can’t fix a problem, she just feeds you and hopes it makes you feel better.”

“Oh.” Irene watched as Marianne took out a casserole dish and turned the oven on. 

“Do you like macaroni and cheese, Irene?”

“I don't know. I haven’t ever had it.” 

Both of the other women turned to stare at her in shock.

“You’re joking, right?” Teresa asked. “How is that even possible?”

“We just... never had it, I guess,” Irene said, scratching the back of her neck uncomfortably. “I mean, Father said that the cooks were paid too much to make something like that, and they never served it at school.”

“That might be the saddest thing I have ever heard,” Marianne lamented. “Practically neglect. Well, Darlin, we’re going to have to fix that. Just give me twenty minutes, and I’ll have this ready.”

“You’ll never want to eat anything else ever again,” Teresa warned her. “I swear she puts crack in it.”

“I do not, Teresa. That would ruin the flavor balance.”

Teresa looked over at Irene while her mother’s back was turned and mouthed  _ she’s lying _ . Irene managed a smile, happy that the conversation had moved away from her uncomfortable family life. 

She was jealous of Teresa’s. Her father had years to come to terms with her sexuality and still could not accept it, and Teresa’s parents were both making a valiant effort. They had both been kind to Irene, and she was starting to feel more relaxed with Marianne, who really was so much like Teresa and Clare. 

It turned out that macaroni and cheese was everything Marianne had said and more. Irene had to be very conscious of how much she ate, knowing that there would be dinner later. Teresa and Marianne watched her with amusement the whole time, each having their fair share of the dish. 

They chatted about this and that, mostly other celebrities that Teresa knew and Marianne pretended to know. Irene was truly relaxed by the time Clare and John returned, and she stayed that way. John did everything he could to set her at ease.

“Well, I think your investments are sound,” Irene said to John after dinner as they sat in the living room. “I couldn’t have picked a better portfolio myself.”

“Now you’re just flattering me,” John said, a small smile crossing his lips. 

“I promise, it’s a good selection.” Irene was reviewing his stock options, and was genuinely impressed. 

“I try to keep up on trends,” he said with a shrug, but Irene thought he might have looked pleased. Next to her, Teresa was grinning.

“I just knew you two would get along,” she said. “With your love of stocks and all your silly business things.” She flapped her hand. “Now he can bore you with all of that instead of me and Mama.”

“I didn’t realize it was so tedious on you, Teresa.”

“It’s not tedious, darling,” Marianne said, patting his knee. “Teresa is just being difficult, as usual.”

“If I wasn’t difficult, then life would be so boring for you.” Teresa leaned back with a stretch. “I’m just looking out for you both.”

“Irene,” John said. “Don’t let the two of them dominate the conversation. They can go back and forth like this indefinitely.”

“I’ve noticed.” And it was something she found she enjoyed.

They stayed up discussing politics and economics with John and Marianne. Irene was pleased to discover that she had more in common with them than she first thought. 

“So,” Teresa began as she snuggled up against Irene in the double bed, so much smaller than the one they normally used. “I think they like you.”

“I like them, too,” Irene said, tilting her head down to place a soft kiss on Teresa’s dark curls. “Your mom is so sweet, and I appreciate the effort you father is making.”

“Mmmm. I think he’s going to be okay with this,” she said, letting her lips brush Irene’s neck. “You really won him over tonight with all that fancy business talk.”

“It was fun. It’s not often that I get to talk about that with someone who’s not a client.”

“Hey, we talk about business sometimes,” Teresa pouted.

“Teresa, you make a valiant effort, but I know that most of the time you don’t understand what I’m saying.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“As obvious as it is when I try to talk about acting with you.”

Teresa smiled against her neck and then trailed her lips down to Irene’s collarbone. “But you’re so cute when you’re trying to pretend like you know what a mark is.” She paused. “Speaking of which, we need to get dresses for the Globes when we get back home.”

“Are you sure you want me to go?”

“We have to make our first public appearance sometime, and what better place than one where the press interaction is limited, and I get to show you off to everyone?” 

“If you’re certain.” Irene was more than a little nervous. She had never been to an event so big and so very televised. 

“It will be fine. The interviews are already set up, and they’ve all been instructed to just kind of gloss over the whole gay thing. Remember, I’m going on the talk show circuit when we get back.”

“I know.” Irene shifted them so that she had her head tucked under Teresa’s chin. She wanted to be held for a while. 

“You won’t have to talk that much. And it will give us good practice for the Oscars.”

“A little cocky, aren’t we? The nominations aren’t out yet.”

“Well, we can pretty much be sure that I’ll be there. They’re calling it the performance of a lifetime.” 

Teresa made a dramatic arching motion with her arm. Right before she and Irene had met, Teresa had been in a movie about the last Tsars of Russia, playing the Tsar’s wife. It had been quite impressive.

“Well, aren’t you confident.”

“Oh, hush.” Teresa leaned down to kiss her softly. “I have to warn you, Clare’s probably going to make us get up early, so we might want to go to sleep now.”

“Fine,” Irene said. “It’s been a long day, anyway. I hate flying.”

“Who doesn’t?”

Irene made a noise of agreement before leaning over Teresa to turn out the light. In the dark, she pressed herself close to her girlfriend and contentedly settled in for sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry I missed uploading this on Friday! We are in the middle of a move, and I was not able to get it up! I am sorry for that! Anyway, here is chapter 8. As always, a big thanks to my beta, shelter!

The screaming, seizing pain in her chest ripped Irene from sleep. The details of the dream were seared deeply and vividly in her mind. She shot up in bed and ran her hand over her chest, fully expecting it to be open and bleeding. However, her skin was smooth and undamaged. 

Immediately, she looked down to her left arm. In the dream, it had been forcibly removed from her, cut away by that girl, that  _ monster _ . But, it was still attached to her.

And next to her, Teresa still slept, alive and whole.

Swallowing hard, Irene pressed her hand against her chest, over her heart, trying to still its frantic beating. The dream had been so real, so intense. More than any that had come before. 

Carefully, mindful that Teresa had been up late on ‘Santa Claus’ duty, she eased out of bed and slipped her robe on over her pajamas. With a last look to reassure herself that Teresa was still there, black hair—not blond— fanned across the pillow, Irene crept from the room. She intended to make her way to the study to read until her mind cleared, but as she descended the stairs, she saw a light on in the kitchen and redirected her path.

Marianne stood at the kitchen island, leaning over a cookbook as she stirred what looked like batter in a large bowl. Irene cleared her throat so she would not scare the other woman. Marianne jumped anyway.

“Irene, honey, you startled me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect anyone to be awake.”

Smiling, Marianne nodded. “Neither did I. I’m just getting a head start on cooking for this afternoon. What’s got you up at such an ungodly hour?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She hesitated, then added, “Bad dream.”

“I’d say being in a new place can do that, but you slept just fine last night, didn’t you?”

“I did.” At least, she had slept normally, with her dreams only lingering below the surface, not crashing over her enough to wake. 

“You want to talk about it?”

“I…I’m not sure. It was very…strange.” She shook her head. “Besides, isn’t the superstition that if you talk about your bad dream before breakfast, it will come true?” 

But there was that nagging feeling that the events of this dream had already happened. 

“I’ve heard that,” said Marianne. “Not sure I believe it, but if you don’t want to share, that’s fine. I won’t push. Teresa says I can be pushy, so I want you to be sure to tell her how I’ve refrained.”

Perhaps because of the adrenaline still in her system leftover from the dream, or perhaps because of her lack of sleep, Irene blurted out, “You’ve been so kind to me. Why?”

Marianne blinked. “What do you mean?”

Irene grimaced. She hadn’t meant to say anything at all, but now she would have to elaborate. 

“I know you didn’t approve when Teresa first told you about me. I know that it’s been hard for you and John to come to terms with this, and yet you’ve treated me as though I’m already part of the family. You’ve been so very good to me. Better than my own father.” Was he her father? She wasn’t so sure anymore. “I just…I don’t understand why.”

For a long moment, Marianne just looked at Irene, her face closed and contemplative. Then she put down her bowl and stepped around the island to stand in front of Irene. She looked so much like Teresa. 

“Sweetheart, sit down.” She gently pushed Irene onto one of the stools, then took the one next to her and clasped Irene’s hands in her own. “It’s true that when Teresa called me and first told me about you, I was shocked. And yes, I didn’t approve. My baby girl was a lesbian, or bi. Whatever she’s calling it. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it, and I was…I’m so ashamed now. I always told myself that I wouldn’t be one of those parents who turned on their children if they were gay. I suppose it’s different when your child has been married and has a child of her own. I’m not trying to make excuses for my reaction, but I do want you to understand something, Irene.

“Now, Teresa probably wouldn’t want me telling you this, and I know that it’s an invasion of her privacy or something like that. But I think you need to hear this to understand why I’ve worked through all of that and welcomed you into my home.”

Anxiety tightening in her chest, Irene waited, willing her hands to stay still where Marianne held them.

“The day Teresa called me to tell me about you, what she said to me is why you’re here for Christmas. It’s why I’ve accepted you when I never accepted Christopher. She said to me, ‘Mama, it doesn’t matter what you think or what you say because I am going to spend the rest of my life with this woman.’”

Irene jerked her head up, sure that she had misheard. “What?”

“She knew. She knew that day that you were the one for her. I have never heard her sound more sure of anything in her life. And let me tell you, Irene, she never said that about any of her previous relationships. Not even Clare’s father. Oh, of course she said she loved him and that she was going to marry him and have a family with him. But she never said she was spending her life with him. She never talked about him the way she talks about you.”

“But…but we’d only been seeing each other a few weeks at that point,” Irene protested. She could not properly identify the emotions rushing through her. “She never…I never knew…she never said anything!” 

Had Teresa always known, always loved her?

“Teresa knows herself, but she is much more cautious than she seems. I know she is rash and impulsive. She’s my child, and I love her. Sometimes, she acts without thinking. But when it comes to matters of the heart, she guards herself. I think she needed to know for sure that the media pressure wouldn’t not be too much for you to handle.”

“I can handle it,” Irene said quietly. “I love her.”  _ Which was why it had hurt all the worse when things had ended, when she had been sent to collect Teresa’s head _ . But that wasn’t what happened in this life, was it?

“I know, honey,” Marianne said kindly. “I knew it the moment I saw you two together. And I have to tell you that I have never seen Teresa happier. That’s the honest to God truth.” She reached up and brushed her thumb across Irene’s cheek which is when Irene realized she was crying.

“I’m sorry,” she said, embarrassed at her weakness. “I just…I was so nervous about meeting you. I was so worried that I was going to cause some sort of rift, and I never wanted Teresa to feel like she had to choose between me and her family. I never would have asked that of her. And then I came here, and I feel like everything just fits and I never thought—“ Irene realized where she was going and clamped her mouth shut.

“Irene?” Marianne’s eyes searched her face with concern. 

“It’s nothing. Just old insecurities. They don’t matter anymore.” Irene was highly conscious of the fact that this was Teresa’s mother, and that they had only met a couple of days prior. She did not want to seem fragile. She was so aware that she had been timid and withdrawn, that she had not been presenting herself as the powerful warrior--woman--she normally was. She wanted Marianne and John to think that she was not going to be able to emotionally support Teresa. “I’m just very glad to be here.”

Marianne regarded her carefully. “Are you hungry? I think you need some comfort food.” She checked the time on the oven clock. “Clare will be up in a couple of hours anyway. She never can sleep past six on Christmas. Well, she’s probably awake now, but we told her she’s not allowed to come down or wake anyone else up until at least six.”

“She’s a good kid,” Irene said, even if she was rash and impulsive, just like Teresa. 

_ Even if she took seven years to return a borrowed arm. _

“She’s perfect. Not that I’m biased.” Marianne gave Irene’s hands a squeeze. “You’re such a sweet girl. I’m glad to have the chance to know you.”

She and Marrianne ended up preparing breakfast together and were chatting still over coffee when Clare’s elephant feet crashed down the stairs. The girl barely stopped long enough to say good morning before she dashed into the living room to start opening presents.

Teresa followed at a much more reasonable pace, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. The lazy way she stretched her arms brought Irene back to her nightmare, and she rubbed her left arm, frowning.

_ It’s been a while. You’re looking well.  _

“Morning,” Teresa said through a yawn. “You’re up early,” she remarked to Irene. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Why did she feel so guarded? Like Teresa would attack her at any moment. 

Her right hand twitched. 

“Yeah, that bed is a little small.” Teresa was regarding her, brows drawn, tensing, and Irene knew there was an understanding between them. 

Things were going to change.

Clare’s squeals of delight broke the tension, and Marianne hurried to the den with her phone out as John followed her from their bedroom.

Teresa looked at Irene. “You had a nightmare.” It was not a question.

“I don’t know. It felt like more than that.” She shook herself, but the shroud of the dream, the memory, would not dislodge. It settled around her in a lead lining, heavy around her neck. “It was so real.”

“Maybe you should take it easy today.”

_ I don’t mind you using your Quicksword, but leave the girl out of it _ .

Irene closed her eyes, and she could see the room at the inn, could feel the weight of pauldrons on her shoulders, could feel her arm jolt as their swords clashed. Teresa was impossibly strong.

“Probably.”

“Irene.” She looked up at Teresa who walked over to her, gently taking her hands. “I love you. So much. You know that, right?”

“I know.” She had always known, hadn’t she? But love hadn’t been enough. 

_ I’ve come for your head. _

“Mom!” Clare’s voice tore Teresa’s eyes from her.

_ We’ll see about that. _

“Coming,” Teresa called back. “We should go in there,” she said to Irene. 

Irene could only nod. She was wearing someone else’s skin. Disassociating. That’s what her therapist said. Not uncommon in someone who had suffered trauma. But which trauma? The one in this world, or the trauma that haunted her dreams, the one that wrapped around her throat now, slowly tightening?

She let Teresa lead her to the couch, even as her shoulders ached where Teresa had cut her down. Everyone else was so caught up in Clare’s excitement that they didn’t notice her hollow stare.

Everyone except Teresa, whose throat bobbed as she watched Irene, like she was struggling not to cry. 

_ Your sword seems stuck. _

Irene sat there as long as she could, trying to come back to herself, but something had shifted. Her dream world was leaking in, taking over. 

The more she tried to fight it, the more sure she became that her dreams were not dreams at all. 

They were her life.

“I need some air.” Irene stood so quickly that Teresa almost fell.

“Irene, honey, are you all right?” Marianne asked, concern clear on her face.

“Yes, I just...I’m tired. I’m sorry.” She wanted to vomit, but she made it outside into the backyard, hoping the cool air would help her calm down. Behind her, she heard the patio door open and close.

“Irene?”

Turning quickly, she lifted her arm, her fingers closing over empty air as she reached behind her for a claymore that didn’t exist. Her heart pounded as she realized she was defenseless with the Number One right there, waiting to cut her down again.

“You’re remembering,” Teresa said, her hands held out in front of her, palms up and fingers splayed in a gesture of peace.

“Don’t. Don’t move.” Irene knew she wouldn't have had a chance even with her claymore. Teresa could have killed her in seconds. 

Teresa stilled. “Okay. Just...Just breathe, Irene. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You murdered humans,” she hissed. God, as scared as she was, she was even more furious. Furious that Teresa had put her in that position. That Teresa had forced her hand, the hand of the Organization. “And you cut down your execution squad!”

“I killed the bandits. They deserved it. I didn’t kill innocents. God, Irene, don’t you know me better than that?”

“I don’t think I ever knew you,” she spat. She brought her hand to her mouth, shaking, and stepped back. “What the hell is happening?” There were too many memories in her head, too many lives. 

“I wish I could explain it to you. But you’re remembering another life. One that didn’t happen in this world.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Teresa took a tentative step towards her, but Irene put up her hand, her left hand that was somehow still there.

“Stop. I need to go home. Make an appointment...my medication…” She took gulping breaths, knowing she was hyperventilating. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Irene. Your medication can’t fight memories.”

“No, no no no no, this is wrong.” She was dying. She had to be. An aneurysm. “This isn’t happening. I need to go. I need to go. I have to go home.”

“You can’t go yet, love.”

“Do  _ not _ call me that!”

Teresa flinched. “I won’t, I’m sorry. But you’re in no condition to go anywhere. Come inside. I’ll explain everything I can, but Clare and my parents are worried.”

“Clare,” Irene repeated flatly. The girl with fire in her heart. The girl with one arm. Just like her. 

“Yes, Clare. She doesn’t know anything. She won’t understand.”

“Teresa, is everything okay?” Marianne stood in the patio door, looking between them with concern. 

“Mama, please go inside.” Teresa’s voice was high and strained, and Marianne’s eyes widened before she retreated. Teresa did not look away from Irene. 

“I have to go,” Irene insisted. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “I need my phone. I need to call an Uber.”

“Irene, please. Please just let me explain things.”

Something inside her broke, shifted, clicked into place, and she growled low and dangerous. “I don’t know what the hell is happening here, but I do know you’ve lied to me. About who I am, who you are. About what we are. And I know that you need to get the hell away from me.”

Teresa’s eyes were shining with tears now, and Irene scoffed. Teresa of the Faint Smile didn’t weep. She certainly hadn’t wept for Irene when they’d parted ways. She had not wept for the humans she killed or the girl whose awakening she’d caused.

Irene pressed her hand to her face. No, Priscilla’s awakening was her fault, wasn’t it? She had been the careless one, the one so infatuated with the raw power that she hadn’t seen the emotional instability. So stupid. Her fault that Teresa had--

“You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead.” She really was going to vomit now, it was inevitable. “I saw it.” Had seen it, heard it, felt it in her bones, her heart, her soul.

“That didn’t happen here,” Teresa said, and Irene could not reconcile her words, her voice, with the memories flooding through her. 

No, not memories. Hallucinations. These were hallucinations. A tiny, fading part of her mind tried to assert this logical explanation. 

But it just wasn’t true. She wasn’t hallucinating, and she wasn’t dying. Not now, not then. Not when Rafaela came. She was a survivor. 

And she would survive this. 

“I need you to move so I can leave. Don’t make me fight you.”

“Irene, I know you’re scared and confused. But please, God Irene, please remember that you’re at my parents’ house for Christmas.  _ That _ is our reality. They have no idea what we are--what we were--and they are very worried about you.” Teresa had not moved towards her, but Irene did not need yoki sensing to know she was straining to reach out. “Please, let me help.”

“No.” Irene closed herself. Teresa could not be trusted with her heart. She was so damn careless with it. How could Irene trust her to help with something of this magnitude? Teresa who was lazy and arrogant and cold and beautiful and perfect. “I’m leaving. Right now. I’ll make an excuse.” Her head was clearing some, coherent thoughts budding again. “I’ll tell them it’s work. I’ll apologize. I’ll play the part. But I’m leaving.”

Teresa’s features twisted painfully. This was a problem that would not bend to her sword. “I can’t stop you.” She could have. They both knew it. At least, the old her could have. 

Irene did not know if they had powers here. She did not feel any yoki in her veins, and she certainly did not bear the body-length gash held together by stitches that would have indicated she had yoma flesh inside her. But maybe things were different here. She had always been strong and fast and so powerful. She had healed so quickly after trying to kill herself. And she bore no scars from it. 

Irene brushed past Teresa as she headed inside. Marianne stood at the kitchen island, worry creasing her brow, and John had his hand on Clare’s shoulder behind her.

“Irene?” Clare asked, voice thin and trembling, so unlike her adult self, and that was when Irene’s stomach gave out.

She pressed a hand to her lips and barrelled to the bathroom, collapsing to her knees, hard enough to bruise, and emptied her breakfast into the bowl. Teresa’s hand touched her back, started to pull her hair away from her face, but Irene shoved her roughly and dragged a hand across her mouth.

“Do. Not. Touch. Me.”

Teresa shrank back and said something Irene could not hear to her parents. 

Irene stood when she was able, too sick, angry, scared to be embarrassed. She washed out her mouth, much like the first time she’d met Teresa in this world, and turned to face her audience.

“I apologize,” she said, as calmly as she could manage, knowing she looked and sounded insane. “Teresa may have told you, but I take medication that sometimes messes with my stomach.” A lie. An outright lie. She never lied. 

Except to tell Teresa they would be able to make a relationship work.

“I’ve gotten a call from work, and I must return to New York. I am sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Irene,” Marianne started, but she trailed off. There wasn’t much to say. They had all seen the argument, even if they did not know what it was about.

“It truly was wonderful to meet you,” Irene said before her courage failed and she pressed up the stairs. Her things were thrown into her suitcase with none of her usual precision. She just had to get out, out, OUT. 

Somehow, she managed to call a Lyft or Uber or cab, she wasn’t sure, but by the time she was finished packing, there was a car waiting for her. Teresa did not try to stop her again, and Irene resolutely refused to look at Clare, who kept telling Teresa that she didn’t understand.

That made two of them. 

“At least tell me you’ve gotten home safely,” Teresa said as she followed Irene to the car, keeping a safe distance.

It was a concession Irene was almost unwilling to make, but she gave a curt nod. “Fine.”

Alone in the car, she let out a shuddering breath, the tears finally falling. The driver said nothing, and Irene let herself curl over her pain, hand pressed to her chest. The first thing she would do was call her doctor. Another MRI, new meds, probably a stay in a rehab facility. She would have to call the board, make arrangements for her clients. What in the hell would she tell her brother?

Her brother. What was her family here? Was it real?

And Elda. Did Elda know? Was it the same Elda? She looked like Elda, but their personalities….everything was so different. How many of them were here? How many warriors were in this world, living, as Irene had, without knowledge of their other lives?

It was enough to make her want to laugh hysterically. The noise bubbled in her chest, but it came out as a barked sob instead. What was the point of rehab? It could not erase her new existence. Medication could not repair this damage. Two lives in one mind, overwhelming her, suffocating her. This was magic, or sorcery, or an act of the gods she did not believe in. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

The question ripped another laughing sob from her. “No. No, I’m not. Just get me to the airport.” After that, well, she would figure that part out after she got home. 

Irene pulled out her phone and texted her brother, telling him she was coming home early, asking if he could help her make arrangements to check into rehab, because that was the only plan she had, and a bad plan was better than no plan. 

He tried to call her, but she ignored him. She couldn’t talk now. Not about this. She wouldn’t know what to say. It would sound crazy. It  _ was _ crazy. But she also knew she was not crazy. She just needed time to think, time to understand what was happening. Time away from work, from life, from Teresa. 

Had Teresa known this whole time who they were? Had she known that night at the Gala? Had she pursued Irene already knowing who she was and what they’d had? Because Irene could recall every excruciating detail now of their past. She remembered the transformation, their training, their work as warriors. She remembered Teresa pursuing her, wooing her, seducing her. She remembered that she had been such an eager participant, so willing to defy Organization rules for Teresa. So willing to love Teresa. She remembered the first time they met, their first kiss, the first time they lay together.

She remembered the last time, as well. 

Everything was now seared once again into her brain. Teresa’s sword clattering to the ground, her hands still attached. Teresa’s eyes widening in shock. Teresa’s blood pouring from the stump of her-

Irene closed her eyes tightly, willing the image to go away. It was so much worse than a dream because it was real. 

The airport was a welcome distraction. There was a flight leaving soon, and she could sit in anonymity for a while, just a normal person forced to travel on Christmas. Even when two women seemed to recognize her-- _ is that the woman Teresa Blackwell is dating _ \--she was able to slip into the lounge, escaping, and her mostly empty flight gave her time to learn how to breathe again. 

At home, she started packing once again, this time with the expectation of being gone for several weeks. A month, even. Time to figure out what to do. She could not retreat to a cabin in the mountains this time.

Remembering her promise to Teresa, she reluctantly picked up her phone. She could have just texted, but she found herself calling instead. The phone only rang once.

_ “Irene?” _ Teresa sounded breathless.

“I made it home.” She did not say more, but she also did not hang up.

_ “Oh, good.” _

The silence hung between them for a few moments.

“Are your parents upset?”

_ “Of course they’re upset-” _ Teresa cut off sharply. When she spoke again, her tone was level.  _ “They don’t understand, and I can’t explain it to them. They know you didn’t leave because of work, and they can’t understand why I let you travel alone when you’re clearly not well, as my mother put it _ .”

“How long have you known?”

_ “Years. It’s why my marriage ended,” _ Teresa said.  _ “I didn’t always remember, but I always knew something was different about me. I was too strong, too fast. And I never fit. After Clare was born, things started coming back to me in bits and pieces. The doctors said it was postpartum, but I knew it wasn’t. It all came to a point when I met Rosemary.” _

“Oh my God,” Irene muttered, rubbing her eyes. “It was  _ that  _ Rosemary?” The Rosemary Teresa had replaced as Number One. The Rosemary who had awakened in an effort to murder Teresa. 

_ “Yes. I’m sorry. But she was familiar, and I felt so alone.” _

“Did she know?”

_ “Not the way we do. But she knew she hated me. It was messy, and I regretted it immediately. I can’t begin to explain what it’s like to sleep with someone you killed.” _ She sounded ill.

“I have an idea,” Irene said. She was so tired, exhausted to her core. Too tired to try and hang on to her anger and confusion for now. 

_ “You didn’t kill me.” _

“I tried to. It was my fault Priscilla awakened.”

_ “The girl was unstable. She shouldn’t have been in the field at all. She would have awakened soon anyway. I let my guard down. It was no one’s fault.” _

Irene rested her head in her free hand. “How did this happen? How are we here?”

_ “I don’t know. I’ve spent years trying to figure it out.” _

“How many of us are here? How many warriors?”

_ “I don’t know. You, me, Rosemary. Priscilla.”  _ Her voice was like glass as she said the name _. “I’m pretty sure I saw Hysteria at a casting all one time, but I couldn’t be certain.I only caught a glimpse.” _

“Noel. Elda. God, I dated Sophia,” Irene added, trying to push down her residual fear over Priscilla. “Clare.”

_ “What?” _ Teresa’s voice was strangled, and Irene frowned. 

“You didn’t know?”

_ “No, I thought…I thought Priscilla…”  _

“You thought Priscilla killed her.” When Teresa did not answer, Irene took pity. “Clare survived the encounter and was infused with your blood. She became a warrior to avenge you. I met her again much later. She never let go of what happened.” As an afterthought, she added, “Neither did I.”

_ “You survived, too? I thought Priscilla killed everyone.” _

“She tried. After she...after you, she killed Noel and Sophia.” Irene paused to collect herself. Reliving those memories, so fresh even across worlds and time, brought back the terror she had felt that day. “She took my arm, and she delivered a final blow. I don’t know if she meant to leave me alive or not. But I fled when I woke. I let them think I was dead.”

_ “No, that...I don’t understand.” _

“I’d never felt terror like that,” Irene explained, annoyed that Teresa couldn’t put herself in Irene’s place. Of course, Teresa had likely never known that kind of fear. Priscilla killed her too quickly for that. “Even when Luciela awakened. Even when we were sent after Hysteria.”

_ “No, I meant...I thought that we were here because we died.” _

“What?”

_ “Everyone here, I thought...I thought everyone here had died in that world.” _

“I didn’t. Neither did Clare.” At least not by Priscilla’s hands. Maybe they had died later, after Clare came back to return her arm. Would she have remembered dying? “Not that I know of.”

_ “I don’t remember dying, so much as everything just...stopped. Priscilla’s blade coming for me is the last thing I remember from that life.” _

“She beheaded you,” Irene said softly, for it had been the single worst moment of both her lives. 

_ “That’s always what I assumed happened,” _ Teresa answered, equally quiet. _ “I should have felt it coming. What good was my yoki sensing if I was too stupid to recognize a cornered animal when I saw one?” _

“You died in front of me.”

_ “You’d been sent to kill me. Did it really surprise you so much?” _

“I never thought we would actually succeed.” Not in her heart, not if she was honest. “As soon as Priscilla announced herself to you, I knew it was over. The element of surprise was all we had.”

_ “But you followed orders, even when you thought it was hopeless. Always the good girl.” _

Irene bristled. “At least I never killed a human.”

Teresa did not rise to the bait.  _ “You don’t understand what happened.” _

“Enlighten me.”

Teresa told her of finding Clare, of traveling with her, of bandits and rapists and all the things that made humans monsters. Teresa told her of the village that those bandits burned, the people they killed, the horror they would have subjected Clare to. The whole while, her voice was flat, emotionless, like she had to remove herself from the memories in order to speak them. 

Teresa took a dragging, shuddering breath as she described rescuing Clare.  _ “I lost myself. I killed them, and I don’t regret it. Not then, not now. Not ever.” _

Irene could see where this was heading, and she hated the Organization more than she thought possible. She had been jaded by the time she was sent after Teresa, but life as a warrior was all she thought she could have at the time. It had been easier to follow orders than to try and carve a new place for herself. She had never been as brave as Teresa. She wished now that she had asked more questions, had known the circumstance. It might not have changed anything, but she would at least have known all the details. 

_ “I knew what I had done, and I gladly turned myself in. I accepted my punishment. Do you think they could have brought me in if I didn’t want to go?” _ There was no need to answer. _ “I was ready to submit, but when I asked what would happen to Clare, I knew what they were going to do to her. I couldn’t let that happen.” _

“I didn’t know. They made it seem like you attacked the humans unprovoked.” And Clare had never gone into specifics when she trained with Irene. Talking about that day was painful for them both, for a surprisingly similar reason. They both loved Teresa. 

_ “Of course they did. They knew we were close. They knew they had to convince you to lead the team. They knew you would only do it if you thought I deserved it. It would have worked, too, if Priscilla had followed your orders.” _

“Yes. It was a good plan.” And she had hated herself for thinking it up. Who better to bring down Teresa than the person who knew her best?

_ “You didn’t need Noel and Sophia. You were enough to distract me.” _

“Teresa, don’t.” It hurt too much now. Now that she remembered it all. “I lived with that burden for so many years.” 

_ “I’m sorry.” _

“What now? How do we just go back to our lives?” How could she go back to work? She would have to call her brother at some point. Rehab was worthless now. No therapist could help with this. 

_ “I don’t know. What do you want?” _

“I want to go back to thinking my biggest problem was finding a dress for a stupid awards show.”

_ “I know.” _

“But you knew. This whole time.”

_ “Yes. When we moved to New York, I found out about your Foundation, and it just seemed like fate. And I missed you.” _

“I need time, Teresa. I don’t know...I need to figure out what’s happened.” 

_ “I wish I had answers for you.” _

Irene looked at the clock, reluctant now to hang up. “Is my family real?”

_ “Mine are,” _ Teresa said firmly.  _ “I love them, and they are as real to me as you and Clare.” _

Irene closed her eyes, swallowing. “I should go. I need some sleep.”

_ “Can I...Will you…” _ Teresa sighed in frustration.  _ “We’re coming back in two days. Can I call you?” _

“No,” Irene said, but this time it hurt to deny Teresa. “Give me time.”

It was a moment before Teresa answered. _ “Okay. I love you, Irene. That hasn’t changed.” _

“I know.” She could not make herself say the words back. Not right now. “Tell your parents I’m sorry. And tell Clare...Tell Clare I will see her soon.” She nodded resolutely to herself. 

When she hung up, she carefully unpacked, folding every pant, hanging every shirt, taking time and care to do it right. Tomorrow, she would start looking for answers. But tonight she would give her mind time to rest.

Surprisingly, her dreams were of dress shopping and nothing more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. If you are enjoying the story, please take a few minutes to leave some comments. They really make my day!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta, shelter!

Researching a past life in another world turned out to be even more frustratingly fruitless than Irene had imagined. An internet search for “Claymore” only brought up the sword and the explosive. Similarly, “the Organization” was so vague that she felt stupid even typing it out. There seemed to be no evidence of their kind at all in this world. The only female warriors she could find were Amazons from Greek myth or similar legends. Nothing like her and her comrades. No stories of women ripped open and sewn back together. 

She tried every variation she could think of, but her searches turned up nothing. In desperation, she ventured to the library, but the woman who helped her there was also at a loss. 

Over the next couple of weeks, she tried different book stores, collectors, historians, anyone she could think of to see if they had any information that sounded even remotely like her past life. 

During that time, Teresa kept to her promise and did not call, though she texted every couple of days to see if Irene was still all right. Irene’s answers were short. She was not ready to figure out whatever was going on between her and Teresa. In this world, she had been so sure, so completely in love, so willing to commit. But her life here was no longer the only factor. She had to remember what had happened between them before.

Before, when they were top ranked warriors, Teresa had ended things abruptly, giving Irene little to no explanation. Just like that, it was over, and they did not see each other again until the day Teresa died. Irene had always wondered why. Now was her opportunity to ask. 

Still, she could not bring herself to have that discussion just yet with Teresa. 

Instead, she threw herself into her research, taking time off work. How could she look at briefs and attend meetings when her world had shifted so violently? It was already all she could do to try and convince her brother that she was fine, that she had overreacted at Christmas. She also managed to convince her psychiatrist to let her wean off her medication. She knew there was no need for it now, though she supposed it had worked valiantly for years against an impossible foe. 

Part of her wanted a dramatic episode where she flushed her pills triumphantly down the toilet, but instead, she sat at her table and meticulously cut them in half to be taken in smaller and smaller doses. They were not the enemy. They had tried to help. She had taken them, or some variation of them, for over half her life. She tried not to dwell too much on the fact that Teresa had known and had said nothing even as Irene increased her dosage again and again. If she thought about it for too long, she wanted to hit something. 

Really, what could Teresa have done? What could she have said? The logical part of Irene knew that Teresa had been given limited choices, that there had been no good choice, no right or wrong choice. But the illogical, emotional part of her was still enraged. All those wasted years, all that wasted time, wasted medication, wasted pain. If she had remembered years ago, what could have been different?

In her past life, Irene had learned to try and let go of ‘what ifs’ What if she had refused to go after Teresa? What if Priscilla had passed her initiation just a few months later? What if Teresa had never found Clare? What if She had never killed bandits? What if Teresa had killed Priscilla when she had the chance?

What if she had never met Teresa in the first place?

So she chose to try and press her anger to the side as much as possible. For her own sanity. 

After weeks of failed research attempts, Irene got a surprising call from one of the collectors she had approached.

_ “Ms. Winters? This is Renee from the Randall Auction House. We spoke earlier this week.” _

“Oh, yes, of course.” Irene frowned. Renee had told her they dealt mostly in art, not artifacts.

_ “Well, after we spoke, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you described. I did some more digging, and I think I have something for you. _ ”

“Really?”

_ “Yes. There’s a gallery uptown that carries a few paintings whose subjects are very close to what you described to me.” _

“That’s good news,” Irene said, a thrill of exhilaration tingling her spine. “Thank you.” 

Renee gave her the address to the gallery.  _ “Ms. Winters...If you find anything, can you let me know?” _

Irene paused, considering the implications of the girl’s words. “Yes, of course.”

The gallery wasn’t far from Teresa’s apartment, and Irene debated whether or not she should call. She knew Teresa had so many questions for her, questions about Clare. Irene could not imagine what it must have been like for Teresa to regain her memories and think that Clare had died at Priscilla’s hands, to look at her child and know the horrors she had seen.

The horrors Teresa knew of were barely the surface, and Irene hated that she was the only one who knew the rest of Clare’s story. She and Teresa had a lifetime of things to discuss, and she did not know where to start. It was easier to brush off Teresa’s texts.

This, however, was something she could not do alone. And she wanted to tell Teresa about Renee. A possible warrior neither of them knew. 

Steeling herself, she dialed Teresa’s number and pressed the phone to her ear.

_ “Irene? Is everything okay?” _

“I found something.” 

_ “What?” _

“I found something that might be about us. I don’t know yet.”

_ “You’ve been on the case for what, two weeks? And you’ve already gotten farther than I did in years.”  _

Irene hated the amused affection in Teresa’s voice. “Well, I’m not content to remain ignorant,” she snipped, already irritated.

_ “Maybe I didn’t want to know. I have a good life here,” _ Teresa said, defensive.  _ “Better than my old one.” _

“Oh, I see.”

_ “Don’t, Irene. Don’t make that about you. Before Clare, you were the only good thing in my life.” _

“And yet you left. You just dropped me, no explanation, no warning. Nothing.”

_ “I had to, Irene! They found out.” _

Cold shock washed over her. “What?”

_ “They found out about us. Orsay told me. He gave me a chance to end it, to save us. He said they were reluctant to scrap such ‘valuable assets,’ but that they couldn’t tolerate such insubordination for long.” _

Irene felt a rage like she had never known course through her veins, the kind of rage that could bring an awakening, and her fingers tightened around her phone. Had she still been a warrior, the device would have shattered in her hand. Already, the glass screen groaned under the pressure. 

“You lied,” she hissed, barely able to form the words. “You said you didn’t have time, that it was too much work! You fucking lied to me!”

Teresa’s voice was hard, as well.  _ “I did what I had to. They were going to kill us, and at the time, I would have stood for my execution. You would have, too.” _

“You could have told me.” She felt like a sword had been thrust under her lungs, cutting her with each ragged breath. “God, Teresa, why didn’t you tell me!”

_ “Because it was hard enough to face you again. If you’d said we should still risk it, I would have agreed! I couldn’t have said no to you. It was better if you hated me, blamed me.” _

“You didn’t get to make that decision for me.” It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from throwing her phone against the wall. All this time, she had thought she had done something wrong, that she hadn’t been enough. 

_ “It kept you alive, and I can’t regret that.” _

Thoughts of inviting Teresa to come with her to the gallery vanished, and Irene hung up, unable to continue the conversation. She wanted her sword. She wanted her sword so badly. Using the Quicksword had been one of the best ways to calm herself, giving her something else to focus on, a way to control her emotions. Without it, she was stuck with this anger festering in her gut and no way to release it. 

Her phone rang, Teresa’s name on the screen, but she had no intention of answering. She let it go to voicemail. The message was long, but she did not listen. She deleted it immediately.

A few minutes later, the texts started coming. 

_ -Irene, please call me back. Let me explain.- _

_ -It wasn’t fair to you, I know, but I didn’t know what else to do.- _

_ -I just wanted to keep you safe- _

Another call. Irene contemplated turning off her phone.

_ -Please, pick up! I’m sorry, I should have told you.- _

_ -Don’t shut me out. We need to talk about this- _

Irene changed into her running clothes and grabbed her keys, resolutely leaving her phone on the table. 

She ran for hours. 

This world wasn’t hers, wasn’t where her heart belonged. But Teresa was right. The lives they had here were infinitely better. There was no comparison. The trauma she’d suffered here was nothing compared to what she’d endured as a warrior. Here she lost her mother to cancer, not her entire family to a youma attack. Here, she’d gotten the psychological help she had so desperately needed. There, she had been forced to shut down her emotions in order to survive. No matter what hardships she had faced in this world, she was still so much better off.

But that could not change the fact that Teresa’s actions had dictated the trauma she’d faced in the old world. If Teresa had just been honest, Irene would have been reasonable. She would have figured something out.

And she never would have gone for Teresa’s head. Priscilla never would have awakened. She wouldn’t have lost her arm, and Teresa would have survived. Clare would not have become a warrior. 

So much pain could have been avoided. 

She had agreed to lead Teresa’s execution team based on false information, and she did not know if she could ever forgive Teresa for that, for letting her be in that position. 

When she could run no farther, after miles and miles, she started the trek back to her house. Now that she had context, she realized she was still much stronger than a true human. She had always been the fastest on her track team, easily beating any challenger. She excelled at all sports, though she had little interest in them. And she healed at a rate that disturbed her doctors. 

She snorted. She had been the very best fencer in her school, better even than the instructor, better by far. So good that he had wanted her to pursue it full time, to try for the Olympics. But the foil never quite felt right, always too thin, too frail. Her hand craved something more substantial. 

Irene held her arm up, studying her skin, the purple veins visible beneath the surface. Did she have yoki here? Or something like it? Something that made her not quite human? Was that why her ears were still pointed? 

These questions circled her, but she had no answers. Not yet.

When she returned home, Teresa had left her three more voicemails and dozens of texts. Irene sighed and decided she would at least listen to the messages.

_ “Irene, I know you’re upset. You have every right to be. I wish I could properly explain what I was thinking at the time. I was so scared for you. I didn’t want to burden you, and I just...I did what I thought was right at the time. Please call me back when you can. I love you. I did then, and I do now.” _

Irene set her jaw, but didn’t erase it. She moved on to the next one.

_ “Irene?”  _ She started. It was Clare’s voice. _ “I took my mom’s phone cause I don’t have your number. I heard her talking to you. She says you’re just not feeling well, but it’s been weeks. Did you guys break up? I don’t want you to break up. I didn’t get to show you my Christmas presents, and we were supposed to go to the MOMA together. Oh, shoot, my mom’s coming. I miss you!” _

Irene stared at the phone, heart seizing painfully. Clare was just a kid in this world. She couldn’t understand what was going on. Hell, an adult wouldn’t be able to understand, either. This Clare was not the girl she knew, the one full of rage and vengeance. This Clare was innocent, happy and well-adjusted. This Clare liked art and reading and pop music. This Clare deserved more than for Irene to drop out of her life during a dramatic Christmas scene. 

The last message was Teresa again.

“ _ Shit, Irene, I’m sorry Clare called you. I didn’t realize she knew my passcode. I’ve changed it, so she shouldn’t bother you anymore. Again, I’m sorry _ .”

Angrily, Irene wiped the tears from her face. The worst part was, she missed Clare, as well. She missed Clare, and God, she missed Teresa. The years and years of aching longing had returned. 

She remembered being drawn out of hiding by a familiar yoki aura deep in the forest. She remembered the bitter disappointment when she realized the yoki was not, somehow, miraculously Teresa. She remembered sitting around a fire with a warrior Clare, talking about Teresa. She remembered how much she wished she’d had the same courage to keep fighting, keep living. 

Here she had another chance, but she was too angry, too hurt, to take it.

The fatigue she had managed to acquire on her run was already starting to fade. How had she never noticed before how quickly her body recovered from physical exertion? Unfortunately, she did still sweat, and she took a shower in hopes that it would bring her clarity. 

Clarity did not come, but she did have a course of action. 

Once she was dried off and dressed, Irene found herself dialing her assistant’s number. 

_ “Ms. Winters? Is everything all right?” _ Flora was rightly surprised. It was the weekend after all, and Irene was still on her leave of absence. 

“Yes. I’m fine. I…” She had to swallow the embarrassment that she had no friends to call, only an employee. “Are you busy?”

“ _ Oh, well… _ ” There was a voice in the background, a female voice, asking who it was. Flora hushed them. “ _ What can I do for you? _ ”

Irene explained wanting to go to the gallery, but not wanting to go alone. Flora had enough sense not to ask about Teresa. The gossip columns were already noticing that they weren’t being seen together anymore. Irene had missed the Golden Globes, and Teresa had cancelled her scheduled interviews. Irene hadn’t watched the show, but she knew Teresa had won. The Oscars were soon, and she doubted now that she would be going to those, either. 

A few hours later, she met Flora outside the gallery. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, Ms. Winters.” Flora offered her a small smile. “I’ve missed seeing you at work.”

Irene did not know what to do with that, so she cleared her throat and nodded to the building. “Let’s go up.”

Standing in the elevator with Flora made Irene second guess her decision to invite her assistant. When they were not talking about work, she realized they probably did not have much in common. In fact, Irene knew very little about the woman next to her. Flora was polite and professional, and that had always been enough. 

“I hope I didn’t take you from something important,” she said as the elevator settled at their floor.

“Oh, nothing much,” Flora said. “My girlfriend is in town for a fashion show, but she’s booked this afternoon anyway.”

Irene stored this information, surprised to hear Flora liked women. “Is she a designer?”

“No, she’s a model. You may have heard of her. Galatea Rook.”

Irene had a vague recollection of the name, though she could not place a face. “I see.” She glanced at Flora. “If you were busy, you could have told me. This isn’t for work. I wouldn’t have taken it personally.”

“I know, Ms. Winters. I wanted to come.”

They entered the gallery, and Irene started scanning the walls, looking for the pieces Renee had mentioned. If she could find the artist, then maybe it would be a start. 

“Ms. Winters,” Flora called from across the room. 

Irene turned and froze when she saw the painting. It was a Claymore, no doubt in her mind. The young woman had white-blond hair, silver eyes, a sword strapped to her back. Her uniform was one of the old styles, before Irene’s time. But the symbol, she recognized. 

“Octavia.”

Flora looked at her sharply. “Yes, that’s what the plaque says. How did you read it from there?”

“I...I’ve seen it before,” she said as she approached. She had never seen Octavia in person. She had awakened before Irene was even born in the old world. But as a single digit warrior, Irene had access to many of the Organization’s records, and she knew the symbols of most of the warriors of her generation and the generations before hers. 

Flora did not look convinced, but she pointed down the wall. “There’s another down there.”

This one she knew from her time as a trainee, and now she could see the resemblance to Rafaela. 

“Luciela.” 

She went in search of the gallery director, cornering him. “Who is the artist who did the paintings of the warrior women?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Those were found in a private collection. We haven’t been able to verify the artist.”

“Do you know how old they are?”

“We estimate they’re early twentieth century.”

Irene pursed her lips. That was well before she had been born in this world. Were warriors appearing in the world according to their generations? No, that couldn’t be it. Luciela was not that much older than Irene and Teresa. 

“Can you tell me where you acquired them?”

“I can’t give out that personal information.”

Irene pulled out her checkbook. “I will take them both. I want to know if there are more. Any information you give me would be helpful.”

The director looked at the check, at all the zeroes, and swallowed. “This is twice what they’re worth.”

“Not to me.”

He seemed to mull over his decision for a few more moments, then relented, writing down a name and address for her. “You didn’t get this from me. We have to maintain a good relationship with our collectors.”

“Of course.” She turned to her assistant. “Flora, when is the Trustee Dinner for the firm?”

“Late May, Ms. Winters.”

“Good. We’ll book this space for it.” She looked back to the director. “If you have any new artists you’d like to showcase, we will have dozens of the city’s wealthiest in one room.”

“Thank you, Ms. Winters,” he said. “We will have these pieces delivered.”

When they finished up and were back in the elevator, Irene looked up the information he had given her. She half expected the collector to be one of them, a warrior, but while the name seemed familiar, it was not the name of any warrior she knew. There was no number listed, which meant she would have to try to go in person. 

She was deep in thought when Flora gently cleared her throat.

“Ms. Winters?”

“Hmm, yes?” 

“Can I ask you something that might seem strange?”

Irene looked up from her phone, studying Flora. “All right.”

“Did you recognize the women in those paintings?”

The question caught her off guard, and she scrambled for a response. “No. No, I did not recognize them.”

“Oh. I had hoped…” Flora glanced away. “There was something so familiar about them. I wondered if you felt the same way.”

Irene’s lips parted as she considered what to say. Flora was tall, as tall as Irene, and athletic. Irene had seen her easily carrying boxes of copy paper that would have caused a grown man to struggle. Could she be one of them, a warrior? All this time, just sitting right under Irene’s nose?

“I don’t recognize the subjects,” Irene said slowly. “But I did feel drawn to the paintings.”

This seemed to disappoint Flora, and Irene felt a pang of sympathy. If the girl was a warrior, Irene knew what she was going through. Still, what could she say? Anything of truth would sound unbelievable, outrageous. Could Teresa have said anything to her about their past lives without either sounding inane or disturbingly perceptive? 

Irene closed her eyes briefly. How could she be so upset with Teresa for hiding this from her? What should she have done instead? It was an impossible situation, and Irene felt her anger at Teresa beginning to fade. 

The best she could do for her assistant, however, was be present. 

“Flora, do you have time to grab a coffee?”

“I do, Ms. Winters,” she said with a soft smile.

Together they made their way to a cafe near the gallery. Irene needed to determine if Flora really was one of them, then figure out how to help the girl remember her past life. 

But should she subject the girl to that? She knew that if Flora was one of them, her past life could not have been easy. Still, Irene knew that as difficult as it was for her to try and piece together her two lives, it was better than feeling like she was insane. It was better than nightmares and hallucinations and uncertainty. If Flora was experiencing that, Irene felt a duty to help. 

She paid for both their coffees, and they sat by the window with Flora watching Irene expectantly. 

“You may be wondering why I asked you to come with me today,” Irene began. 

“I didn’t want to pry.”

“Teresa and I have had a falling out of sorts.” It sounded ludicrous to put it in such mundane terms. “But it is something I believe we will work through.” 

Because, really, it would never be anyone but Teresa. Not now. Even through her anger and betrayal, she knew she would come back to Teresa. She would not make the same mistake again. 

“Oh, well I’m glad to hear that. Since you met her, you’ve seemed really happy.”

“I have been,” Irene said softly, honestly. “But right now, it’s difficult. I appreciate you coming with me. I am wary of going places alone at the moment. The gossip columns are starting to stir. If I’m seen with my assistant, it’s not quite as big of a deal as if I’m alone.”

Flora nodded. “I’m happy to help. Truly.”

“When you mentioned your girlfriend, I realized that I don’t know much about you. You’ve been with me, what, three years?”

“Yes. It will be four this summer.”

“You’re very capable, Flora. You could have easily found a better position. Yet you’ve stayed.”

Flora blushed. “I enjoy working for you,” she said, but it lacked her usual sincerity, and Irene frowned. 

“You know that if you ever want to move on, I will help however I can.”

“I’m fine where I am,” Flora said firmly. “But thank you.”

Irene contemplated her tone. It would take more work than a single conversation over coffee to encourage Flora to open up with her. She had to approach the situation carefully or risk spooking the girl. 

“All right. Just know that I believe you have great potential.”

“That means a lot to me, Ms. Winters. I’ve always wanted to emulate you,” Flora said, looking down at her coffee instead of at Irene.

“If you’re interested in shadowing me, we can work something out.”

“I will think about it.” Her voice had hardened, and Irene let the subject drop. 

She let the conversation steer more to Flora’s personal life, her girlfriend, her taste in music, her childhood. She could see parallels to her own life, to Teresa’s. The more they talked, the more she was convinced Flora was one of them. She just had to decide what to do about it. 

When she returned home, she swallowed her pride and her anger and called Teresa. 

_ “Irene, I didn’t think I would hear from you.” _ The relief in her voice was palpable. 

“I hadn’t planned on it. Not for a while, at least.”

_ “I know you’re upset-” _

“I’m much more than upset, Teresa,” Irene said, working hard to keep her cool. “I don’t know what would have happened if you’d told me the truth about leaving me, but I do know that I would never have agreed to come after you if I’d known. Or I would have at least given you a chance to explain. That’s why I’m so angry. For years, I tried to justify to myself my decision to actively participate in your execution. And now, I’ve found out everything I thought I knew was a lie.”

_ “I’m sorry. I couldn’t have known how things would play out. I just knew that I had to keep you safe." _

"You should have told me." 

_ "I know. I'm sorry, Irene. I'm sorry for what you went through because of me."  _

Irene pressed a hand to her mouth as she fought back her emotions. "I missed you so much," she whispered, voice breaking over the words. 

She thought she heard Teresa’s breath hitch.  _ “Oh, Irene. Can I come to you?” _

Irene nodded, then forced herself to speak. “Yes.”

_ “I’ll be there soon. Let me call a sitter for Clare, and I’ll head your way.” _

“All right.”

She hung up and put on a pot of tea while she waited. This would be the first time she and Teresa would see each other since she had regained her memories. It would be hard, emotional, to see her again, but they had to start somewhere. 

It was almost an hour later when Teresa finally arrived. Irene silently opened the door to let her in. They stood there, staring at each other. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here,” Teresa eventually said. She was looking at Irene like it had been a lifetime since they’d seen each other. Irene supposed in a way it had. “It took awhile for the babysitter to get there on such short notice.”

“It’s okay.”

“Should we sit?”

“Yes.” She led Teresa to the living room and sat in the same chair as when they had discussed Teresa’s failed marriage. 

Teresa sat across from her and leaned over, elbows resting on her knees. “I don’t know how to make this up to you. I’ve been wracking my mind, but nothing seems good enough.”

“You can’t fix something like this. It’s too much.”

Teresa closed her eyes. “Too much?” Her voice wavered. “Is there no hope?”

Irene flexed the fingers on her left hand. “There’s hope,” she said softly. “I’m angry, but I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. I will wait as long as it takes.”

“You still love me?”

“So much. More than I did then.” When Irene frowned, she continued. "My capacity to love is greater here. I grew up with a loving family with parents who have a good, healthy marriage. My emotional growth was never stunted. I know how to show affection, how to be with someone. I couldn’t do that before. All I knew how to do was fight."

Irene accepted this. "When I was in hiding, after you...died, I longed for you. But I don't know how much of it was love and how much of it was just a need to fill a void in my heart." 

"We have another chance, Irene. To do it better this time." 

“If I had never remembered, would you have ever told me our past?”

Teresa folded her hands together and pressed them to her chin. “I don’t know. I struggled with it every day. I could tell you were remembering, but I didn’t know how to help. I didn’t know what to do, or if telling you would make it worse. I just tried to be there for you. I felt guilty, like I was taking advantage of you. But I just couldn’t let you go.”

“You knew I had hallucinations, that I was on medication, that I had to keep increasing my dosage. You knew this, and you still said nothing.”

Teresa’s throat worked, and she looked away. “I didn’t know what to do. I was scared that I would make it worse. So I did nothing. Maybe that was the wrong choice, but I did my best.”

Irene did not know if she would have done anything differently had she been in Teresa’s position. “Are we human?”

“I don’t know. I age, but I don’t think I age as they do. I heal quickly, and I’m so strong.”

“But we don’t have the scar. I don’t feel any yoki energy.”

“What I told you before was true, Irene. I didn’t want to look for answers. I live in a world now where I don’t have to fight like that, where Clare will never lose her family to such violence, will never have to go through so much trauma. I just...accepted it.”

“I can’t. There are more of us here, and I need to know why.” 

Irene told Teresa about the gallery, the paintings, the woman who sent her that way, her suspicions about Flora. It was a relief to tell someone about it, but that did not erase her anger. She was still upset, but she decided that she needed help more than she needed her anger. 

And she needed Teresa.

They would go to the collector together and see what they could find. They would try to move forward. They would try to work things out. 

When Irene ran out of things to say, Teresa bit her bottom lip, like she wanted to ask something.

“You want to know about Clare’s time as a warrior,” Irene surmised. 

“Yes. Please.”

Irene leaned back and took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think. I do love reviews!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta, shelter, and thank you to everyone who has reviewed. It really makes my day. I am sorry I did not upload yesterday. I am back to work full time and am still adjusting to that schedule.

It was late that night when Teresa left, and Irene was emotionally exhausted. They had talked about Clare for a long time, though Irene could tell it pained Teresa. She had died to give Clare a human life, which had been for nothing. Irene did not envy her, having to go back to her apartment and pretend like nothing was different. 

But Teresa really was a good actress.

Irene slept poorly, but that was no longer due to nightmares. Not entirely, at least. She had expected her nightmares to stop after she remembered her past life. But now, they were just different. She dreamed of Priscilla far too much, of Teresa’s head flying through the air, of her arm being ripped from her. However, she’d had years of these nightmares in her other life. She was accustomed to them. 

What kept her up now was her worry over Teresa, over how they would repair their relationship, how they could move on from this. Teresa could apologize all she wanted, but it did not change everything that had happened, both in this world and the last one. She could not forget the pain Teresa had caused her in the old world, though she knew there was nothing to do about it now. In the old world, she had blamed herself and blamed Clare for the destruction Teresa’s desertion had wrought. But now...

Teresa was right. She was softer in this world. Her emotions, her empathy, were easier to access here where she had not been battle hardened. Now, she remembered everything Clare had suffered, and it hurt her heart. No child should have to experience those things. Not Clare, not Teresa, not her. No one was to blame for what had happened except the men of the Organization who had exploited them, used them. 

How could she possibly look at Clare again without weeping?

As she sat drinking her coffee the next morning, she tried not to be disgusted at her own lavish lifestyle. So very different from a single room cabin in the mountains. 

It felt wrong to have so much, to need so much. Her immediate impulse had been to liquidate her assets and donate the lot of it. That, however, would not work here. She had a responsibility to her Foundation, to her employees, to her family. 

They weren’t the same family she had lost, but they were close, and she loved them, even if she did not know how to talk to them now. She did not know how Teresa could have such easy and natural conversations with her parents, how she could pretend like everything was normal. Irene was struggling to just text her brother every few days so he wouldn’t worry about her. A real conversation was out of the question. Even the mention of Elda was almost too much for her. 

Her phone buzzed, and she frowned as she picked it up. Teresa would not be calling her this early in the morning. 

Her father.

After a moment of hesitation, a moment where she remembered the screams of her other father as he was eaten alive trying to protect her, she answered. “Hello?”

_ “Irene. It’s your father.” _

“Yes, I know.”

_ “Ah. I wasn’t sure if you’d deleted my number.” _

She had to set her jaw, her lips pressed together. He was her father in this life. He had helped raise her, however poor a job he had done, and she did not want to lose the one parent she had left. So she bit back her retort.

“I’m not that petty.”

_ “No, I suppose you’re not.” _

“Why are you calling me? We haven’t spoken in months.”

_ “I’ve been concerned for you.” _

She almost laughed. “Ah. I see. You’ve seen the rumors that Teresa and I broke up.” Silence answered her. “Well, we haven’t. Sorry to disappoint you.” 

_ “Irene, please.” _

His voice sounded different, not arrogant and cold as usual. Strained almost. It gave her pause. 

“What do you want? Do you need a kidney or something?”

_ “Of course not. I just wanted to call you.”  _

“Now isn’t a good time.” Her emotional state was already too fragile to deal with him. She did not have the energy to be angry at him and Teresa simultaneously. 

_ “The last time we spoke, I was too hard on you. I’ve done a lot of thinking since then, and I don’t want that to be our relationship.” _

“Oh. Now you want to be a father?” She could not stop the snort that forced its way through her nose. “Now when I need you the least? What about Paul? Have you considered calling him?”

_ “I have, Irene. You would know that if you’d spoken to him. He’s worried about you, too. He said you’ve stopped taking your medication. That’s part of why I wanted to reach out to you.” _

Irene knew she should have felt more shocked by this, more betrayed. But it seemed such a small thing in comparison with her new problems. Her tether to her life here was so much weaker than Teresa’s. 

“It’s really none of your business.”

_ “If you need help, Irene, I can arrange something. Like when you were in school.” _

This should not have surprised her. He always did want to just lock away his problems. She supposed in a way she was the same. 

“That’s always your answer, isn’t it? Just take away your embarrassing child. Wouldn’t want anyone to know she has  _ problems _ .” 

_ “That’s not what I meant,” _ he said, starting to lose his soft tone. _ “I’ve never been good at knowing what you need. That was your mother.” _

“All you ever had to do was talk to me,” she said, startled now at the emotion in her voice. Perhaps her tether was not so weak after all. Just because she remembered her old life did not mean the decades she’d lived in this world were suddenly gone. The pain here, however less traumatic, still affected her. “You just had to ask what I needed!”

_ “Well, I’m asking now.” _

“You can’t give me what I need anymore,” she said raggedly. 

_ “Irene-” _

“No, look, I get that you’re feeling guilty now and want to make amends, but I’m taking care of myself. My doctor knows everything I’m doing, so don’t worry yourself about it. And tell Paul to mind his own business. I’m fine.” 

_ “Is it true you’re on sabbatical?” _

She grimaced. “I’m taking time off. I think I’ve earned it.”

_ “During Tax Season? You’re not being audited, are you? I know some good lawyers.” _

Irene did laugh now. As if taxes were her biggest concern. “I’d never put my firm in a position where an audit would be a bad thing. As I said, don’t concern yourself with me.”

_ “If you’re in trouble, Irene, you can tell me.” _

Frustrated, she rubbed her brow. “I’m not in trouble. I told you, I’m fine. If you want to make amends, then you should start by listening to me.”

_ “All right. Fine.” _

“Good.”

There was silence for long enough that Irene wondered if they had gotten disconnected.

_ “About this Teresa Blackwell-” _

“Father, please. I don’t want to hear it.”

_ “All I was going to say is that if she...if she makes you happy, then I will learn to accept it.” _

Irene had already prepared a retort that she now had to swallow, blinking in surprise. “Oh. Well...all right.”

_ “This is hard for me, Irene. After your mother died, I didn’t know what to do with you. I’m just trying to figure it out. Better late than never, right?” _

If he really was trying to ask for forgiveness, he was going about it all wrong. Irene’s fist clenched, and she suppressed a growl. Her warrior side was far too feral for this world, always wanting to start something. 

“No, that’s not always the case.” Her patience was coming to an end, and she still had to deal with Teresa today. “I meant it before. Now isn’t a good time. I need to go.”

_ “Irene, wait. I’m sorry.” _

Oh, how she had longed for those words, ached to hear them said with such sincerity. Years ago, she would have given anything, would have forgiven anything for them. Now, though, it was with detached calm that she answered.

“You’re going to have to work harder than that if you want to be back into my life. Now, I have to go.” 

She hung up before he could answer and slumped in her chair. Arguing with him felt so tedious, so pointless. She had work to do. 

Once she finished her coffee, she took a run. These were becoming a daily activity, a way to anchor herself, to try and control her emotions. Part of her contemplated taking up kickboxing or something like it, but she feared she would accidentally hurt someone. That had been why she stuck to track. In contact sports, her body had been too strong, too much. Now, at least, she understood why. 

Perhaps she and Teresa could spar at some point, and she could really test her limits, so to speak. This would be a learning experience all over again. She could not assume anything at this point. What she knew in the old world was not true here, but she knew there was more to them than simply being stronger than your average human. The city, however, was no place to test her speed and strength. It could bring too much attention. If the government found out about ‘super humans,’ or whatever they were now, it could lead to more experimentation.

She’d suffered quite enough of that to last her a hundred lifetimes. 

After showering, she saw she had a text and a missed call. The text was from Teresa and simply said - _ Hey _ .-

The call was from her brother. She chose to ignore that for now, and instead texted Teresa back. 

**-Hey.-**

_ -Clare’s at her dad’s this week. Wanna take a trip to find this mystery collector? _ -

The address was upstate. They would have to stay somewhere overnight. 

The prospect of being in Teresa’s company for such a long time tore at Irene. There was a part of her, a rather large and demanding part, that longed to just put aside the past, their difficulties, and fall back into Teresa’s arms. But she knew she could not do that. If she did, the lingering resentment would fester and rot and tear them apart from the inside out. 

If she wanted Teresa, and God she wanted Teresa, then they would have to rebuild their foundation with trust and respect. 

**-All right. Find a place to stay the night. Book two rooms.-**

She knew that would hurt Teresa, but it could not be helped. 

_ -Okay. Pick you up in an hour.- _

Irene was waiting by the time Teresa arrived, looking drained already as she got out of the car to greet Irene.

“I think there are some photogs around the corner. I want them to get a good look at us together. Maybe that will calm the rumor mills.”

“Flora tells me she keeps getting calls at the office about it. I don’t understand why your life is so fascinating to these people.”

A tired smile tugged Teresa’s lips. “Living vicariously, maybe?”

“If only they knew.”

This earned her a true smile and a chuckle. “Truth is stranger than fiction, right? Anyway, I booked a place that looks pretty nice. Used a fake name. Hopefully they won’t follow us out of the city.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to lose them,” Irene said as she slid into the car. Teresa was a terrifying driver. Irene supposed that driving dangerously was akin to the thrill of facing an awakened being. 

“I’m certainly going to try.” 

Irene grasped the handle above her door in preparation, ready to brace herself. 

They stayed quiet while Teresa navigated her way out of the city, very quickly losing the paparazzi on their tail. When they were on the open highway, Irene let herself relax a little.

“I never told you, but congratulations on your Globe win,” she said eventually.

“Oh, thanks. It just means I really do have to have an Oscar speech ready.”

“When you remembered who you are, why did you keep acting?” Because it was almost impossible for Irene to even look at her client accounts right now. This life was so mundane in comparison to her old one. 

“Honestly? I was really good at it, and I like it.” Teresa shrugged, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the window. “And I didn’t go to a fancy Ivy League school like you. I didn’t go to college at all. I had no other skills, no other way to provide for Clare. Not a lot of youma around here to kill for a fee.”

“And you like the accolades.”

“What can I say? I like being the best, and I like people knowing it.”

“It’s been hard for me. Trying to act normal.”

Teresa glanced at her for a moment. “I know. Hey, when I first got my memories back, I took a year long break. I had to get my head in order. So, I do know what you’re going through. Take all the time off work you need. Hell, quit if it’s what you want to do. I know you have money to fall back on, and even if you didn’t, I would make sure you were taken care of.”

“I don’t need your handouts.”

“I know that. I just meant that, whatever you feel like you need to do, I’ll support you.”

Irene leaned her head back against the headrest. “My father called me this morning. He wanted to fix things.”

“And?”

“And, I don’t know how to talk to him. Or my brother. I don’t know what they are to me now.”

“They’re still your family. I mean, your brother is, at least. You don’t owe your dad anything. Not after how he’s treated you your whole life.”

“I just...I lost everyone before. It feels like I should do everything I can do to keep this new family.” She ran a hand through her hair. “But how? I can’t tell them anything. I’m afraid to even talk about Elda with Paul. What if I say something strange? What if I talk about her as a warrior and they think I need to be committed?”

“With anyone else, I would worry,” Teresa said gently. “But, Irene, you know your control is untouchable. You won’t let yourself say something like that.”

“Still, I’ve been avoiding Paul, and he’s starting to worry.”

“Eventually, you’ll have to either cut them out of your life completely or learn how to be around them again. I went through the same thing. My mom looks exactly like me. More than my...my other mother. I’ve struggled with how that’s possible, but what I know for sure is that she raised me, and I love her. That’s all you can go off of for now.”

“Does it get easier?”

“Yeah, it does. It really does.” Teresa offered her free hand, and Irene took it, the first time they had touched since Christmas. It felt like an anchor, a life preserver in a raging ocean. It felt like home.

“I miss Clare,” Irene said after a while. “I didn’t think I would. Not this much, at least. I suppose after everything, I’m tied to her.” If not through flesh and blood anymore, then through their shared history. “She’s so different here. So happy.”

Pain flitted across Teresa’s face before she answered. “She keeps asking about you, and I know she doesn’t believe my excuses. Irene, I need you to know that I’ve never brought anyone home to her before. Just you. God, it’s almost like my body knew you were here somewhere and I just needed to find you. No matter who I dated, it never felt right, even before I remembered.”

“I know the feeling. The closest I got was when I dated Sophia, but there was still something missing.”

“She’s not the one who cheated, was she?” Teresa’s voice sounded purposefully light.

“Sophia?” Irene had to smile. “No. The one who cheated was just a human as far as I know. I think Sophia is the only one of us I’ve dated. She didn’t show any signs of remembering, and she certainly didn’t bring out my nightmares like you did.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.”

“I think it means you and I have a stronger connection, obviously. You made me remember. She didn’t.”

Teresa eyed her, mouth pursed.

“What?”

“Nothing, just...so you had sex with Sophia?”

“Are you jealous?” Irene asked, not sure if she should be amused or concerned. 

“What? No! Okay, maybe a little, but it’s just weird, you know? You never had an interest in her in the old world.”

“I think we were both trying to find something familiar.” She gave Teresa’s hand a squeeze. “It didn’t last, and I haven’t seen her in years.” She rubbed her thumb over Teresa’s knuckles. That always used to soothe her. “I know that things are tense with us. I’m working through a lot right now. But you don’t need to be jealous of Sophia, of all people.” Though Irene wondered if she should contact Sophia now, just to see if she had any inkling of who they were. 

“I just don’t want to lose you again,” Teresa said, voice small and apprehensive.

“Well, we’re here, aren’t we?” Even if they would be staying in separate rooms.

“Yeah. We are.”

The rest of the drive was peaceful, and Irene started to let her guard down. As much as she wanted to stay angry, it required so much energy, energy that was better spent figuring out what was going on. 

The place Teresa had booked was a secluded Bed and Breakfast, tucked away in a sleepy town that hosted the rich elite of New York during the summer season. But now, in the middle of winter, only the full time residents were around, and the inn only had one other guest. 

The woman at the desk obviously recognized Teresa, but she clearly had experience with high profile guests and showed them to their rooms with professional ease. 

“I hope she doesn’t tip off our location,” Irene said once they were alone. “Staying in separate rooms won’t help the rumors at all.”

“My room is always welcome to you,” Teresa said with a smirk.

“Don’t.”

“Right, sorry.”

“I’m going to put my things up, then we can see if we can find this person.” Irene retreated to her own room. She needed a breather from Teresa more than anything, otherwise she knew they really would wind up in bed together. That would only complicate matters further. 

After a few minutes, she gathered herself and knocked on Teresa’s door. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, one sec!” When Teresa opened the door, she kept her eyes locked with Irene’s. “I’m sorry about earlier. I tend to fall back on innuendos when I’m nervous. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but she did not have time to start an argument. 

“Okay. Well, I guess I’m ready.” Teresa put on sunglasses that were ridiculous in the hazy winter light. “This would be a hell of a lot easier if I hadn’t just won a Golden Globe.”

Irene was inclined to agree, but their money and Teresa’s name would probably prove useful in getting access to the elite of the art world. 

With the use of her GPS, it did not take long to find the address Irene had been given. The home was old and large and screamed of money. Fortunately, Irene had spent her summers in the Hamptons as a child and was not intimidated by such grandeur. Unfortunately, there was a gate at the entrance to the drive.

“Looks like they’re not fond of visitors” Irene said, eyeing the security system. 

“Lucky for us, I’m pretty famous,” Teresa said with a cocky grin. “People love me.”

“If you say so.”

Teresa leaned out the car window and pressed the call button.

_ “Vander Linde Residence. _ ”

Teresa shot Irene a triumphant smirk. “Yes, hello. I am so sorry to intrude, but I was trying to get in touch with Andrea Vander Linde about purchasing some of her collection.”

_ “The collection is not for sale, and Ms. Vander Linde is not seeing visitors.” _

“Tell her it’s Teresa Blackwell.” She removed her sunglasses and looked up to give the camera a good view of her face. 

“Oh my God,” Irene muttered. 

The speaker was silent for a moment before crackling to life again.  _ “Ms. Vander Linde will not be seeing visitors at this time,” _ the voice repeated.

In her embarrassment, Irene looked out her own window, where another security camera focused on her. 

_ “Is Ms. Irene Winters with you?” _

“Oh, uh yeah. Yes, she is.”

There was more silence, then the gate buzzed open.

Teresa looked to Irene for an explanation.

“I have no idea,” Irene said, though the name Vander Linde sounded familiar. “Are we about to get murdered?”

“Now that would be something, wouldn’t it?” Teresa started up the winding driveway. She pulled up in front of the Victorian porch, and as they got out, a man in an incredibly stereotypical butler’s outfit trotted down the steps to greet them.

“Ms. Vander Linde will see you.” 

Teresa pushed Irene out in front. “You better lead.”

With a glare at Teresa, Irene followed the butler into the large foyer. The home was immaculately kept, with art on every wall. Irene was sure that each one was worth thousands, if not millions. 

“This way, please.” The butler led them into a large library. At the far end sat an attractive woman in her sixties, her gray hair pulled up in a perfect bun. She looked up as they walked in.

“Thank you, Jeffery, that will be all.”

The butler bowed and left.

“Please, have a seat.” The woman indicated two plush chairs in front of her desk, and Irene felt like she had been called into the headmistress’s office. “I must say, I was surprised that Teresa Blackwell showed up at my door. Yours is not a name generally spoken in the art community.”

“Well, I’m looking to branch out,” Teresa said easily.

“Regardless, Ms. Winters here comes from a very well respected family. How is your father, dear?”

“My father?”

“Oh yes, I’ve known him a long time. He’s often at the same auctions as I am. He has a fine eye.” She said it with such an intimate smile that Irene’s stomach turned. 

“I see.” She remembered now. Andrea Vander Linde was the woman her mother had always feared was having an affair with her father. “My father is well. I spoke to him just this morning.”

“Please do pass on my regards.”

“Of course.” By her thigh, Irene’s hand was clenched into a fist, and her nails dug into the skin of her palm. 

Ms. Vander Linde smiled graciously. “So, you’re interested in my collection?”

“Yes,” Teresa said, placing a calming hand on Irene’s arm. “Specifically, we’re interested in a few pieces you sold recently.”

“Oh. Which would those be?”

“ _ Luciela _ and  _ Octavia _ .”

Ms. Vander Linde’s shock was real and honest, cutting through her careful facade. “Why are you interested in those? The artist is unknown. They have little real value.” 

“They caught my eye,” Irene said. “I wanted to know if there were more like them.”

Ms. Vander Linde regarded them carefully, face closed now. “Yes, there are more, but I don’t have them.”

“Can you tell us who does?”

“I can, but you’ll have a hard time getting him to see you.” She pulled out a fountain pen and neat, expensive letterhead. In elegant script, she wrote a name and address. “He lives outside town and rarely takes visitors. I doubt your name will have much sway,” she added pointedly to Teresa. She passed the paper to Irene who gasped when she read the name.

_ Isley White _

“Fucking hell,” Teresa breathed, leaning over to see. “Is that-”

“I don’t know.” Irene looked back to Ms. Vander Linde. “Thank you. This has been a great help.”

Back in the car, Teresa took the paper and quickly typed the address into her phone. 

“Goddamn Isley of the North! Are you fucking serious?” She shook her head as they pulled out. 

“We don’t know it’s him yet,” Irene reminded her, still shaken from the encounter. 

“I feel like it’s a pretty safe bet.” Once they were back on the main road, Teresa glanced at her. “Hey, did you know that woman?”

“No. But...I’m fairly certain she had an affair with my father when I was young. It was before my mother got sick, but still.” 

“I’m sorry, Irene. I knew you were upset, but I had no idea why.”

“I’m glad you were with me. I would not have wanted to face her alone.”

“Of course. So do you want to go see Isley now?”

“Tomorrow. Let’s just get something to eat and go back to the hotel.” 

With a nod, Teresa drove into the center of town. Many of the businesses were closed for the season, even for someone as famous as Teresa. But they were able to find a place to eat. They were careful not to speak of their past lives as staff flitted around. Instead, they spoke of Clare.

“She keeps talking about the art museum,” Teresa said, shaking her head. “But she won’t go without you. So she’s sulking while trying to look like she’s not sulking.”

“I’ll take her when we get back,” Irene promised. “I didn’t mean to just drop out of her life.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“I’m just surprised she doesn’t think I’m insane.”

“She doesn’t understand enough to think that. My parents, however, are very concerned.”

“I don’t know if I can face them again.”

“It will be fine. I promise.” She reached for Irene’s hand, squeezing briefly. “I can handle them. It’s Clare who’s driving me up the wall.”

“I guess I should be glad she still likes me.”

“What’s not to like?” Teresa was looking at her seriously. “She’s got good taste.”

“Oh, hush.” She ducked her head to hide her blush, reminding herself she was still mad at Teresa.

“It’s true! Look, you’re good with her. She’s a pretty easy going kid, but she’s stubborn as hell. Always has been. And I mean  _ always _ . You know that. But she genuinely likes you. Not just because I do. I take her to museums and all that, you know, enrichment or whatever. But I don’t care that much about it. You do, and she’s excited to have someone to share that with.”

“What about her father?”

Teresa shrugged. “He tries, but he’s away so much. He’s always struggled with parenting. He’s a very...free spirit. He’s a good guy, but I’ve always had to be the voice of reason.”

“You?”

“Hey, it’s not that outrageous is it?”

“Here? No,” Irene relented. “No, I suppose not. You’re a good mother, and Clare is lucky to have you.”

“I’ve tried to give her a good life. You know, to make up for everything.” Irene knew she meant everything from their old life.

At the hotel, they stood in the hall between their rooms. “We should get going by nine,” Teresa said.

“I’ll be ready.”

“Irene…” Teresa’s eyes were deep with longing, and Irene had to work hard to keep her resolve.

“I’m getting there, Teresa. I’ll see you in the morning.”

In her room, she looked at her phone and dialed her father’s number.

_ “Irene?” _

“Did you have an affair with Andrea Vander Lind?”

_ “What?” _

“Did you have an affair with her? Mother thought so.”

_ “I--Irene, please, let’s not talk about this.” _

“So you did.”

_ “No! I never cheated on your mother. I loved her.”  _ He sounded sincere.

“What about after she died?”

He was quiet for a while.  _ “I get lonely, Irene. Andrea has similar interests. I enjoy spending time with her. There’s nothing wrong with that.” _

She rubbed her brows. “I met her today, and she mentioned you. I just…”

_ “I never cheated. I swear that to you, Irene. Your mother...I loved her very much, but she could be insecure.”  _ Irene knew it was true, even if she hated to admit it.  _ “And Andrea respected her. We were friendly, but she never approached me until years after your mother passed.” _

“I see.”

_ “Where did you meet her?” _

“I’m...getting into art. She had a piece I wanted.”

_ “Oh. Well, you know I do know quite a few people in the business. I can help if you really want to get into collecting.”  _ He sounded so hopeful, and Irene wanted to cry. 

“I’ll let you know.” She took a deep breath. “I have been struggling lately. But I’ve been working with my doctor, and I’m better. It is why I took time from work, and I will go back soon.”

_ “Are you really all right? I know we’ve had our differences, but you’re my daughter. I love you. You and Paul are all I have left.” _

“I’m all right,” she said, wiping away a tear that spilled down her cheek. “It’s not like before.”

_ “I meant what I said earlier. If I can help, I will.” _

“I know.”

_ “I’ve missed you.” _

“Well...make it up to me.”

They stayed on the phone for only fifteen minutes, but Irene thought maybe they were turning a corner. She went to bed feeling lighter than she had in weeks. 

In her dreams, the one-horned monster was no match for Teresa’s soft words and softer hands. In her dreams, everything was all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this chapter took so long. I have not had much motivation, so chapters will probably be slow to come for a while. Thank you, as usual, to my beta, shelter.

Irene woke well before their designated meeting time. Her mind was too full of possibilities and lingering anger at her father. With the time she had, she started searching online for Isley White to see what she could find. To her frustration, she could not find any pictures of him, but he seemed to be well known. His collection was said to be one of the best in the country, the envy of many. 

She was still scrolling through her searches when Teresa knocked on the door.

“Good morning,” Irene said. “Are you ready?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’m ready to go face a Creature of the Abyss, but I am dressed.”

“There are no unsolved disappearances in the area,” Irene said. “I did check. So, we should probably be safe.”

With a snort, Teresa shook her head. “He might not be looking to eat our guts, but I doubt we’ll be safe.”

“I need to find out what he knows.”

“I know. I just...What will we do if he remembers?”

“Have an honest conversation, hopefully.”

“You’re awfully optimistic about this.” Teresa tossed her hair, sliding on her sunglasses. “Well, let’s get going.”

They stopped long enough to eat breakfast, before heading out. It had snowed overnight, and Teresa had to drive slowly over the slick roads as they wound their way outside of town. 

“You’re sure we should do this?” Teresa asked again.

“Are you frightened?”

“Of an Abyssal One? No, of course not. Why would I ever be afraid of that?” Teresa rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come on. You hid your power from me, but I felt it, Teresa. When you fought Priscilla, I couldn’t believe it. Your yoki aura was overwhelming.” If Irene had known, if only she had known, then she would have refused to go after Teresa with anything less than the full might of the 47, probably not even then. “The part of you that manifested through Clare to ultimately defeat Priscilla did so with terrifying ease. That’s what Clare said.”

“She also said it wasn’t actually me,” Teresa reminded her. “It was my residual essence paired with her love and her memories, or whatever. That’s what made it so powerful. Since I don’t have any of those memories, I am inclined to agree it was not really me.” 

“Clare believed you still would have been able to defeat Priscilla, just with much more difficulty. So Isley of the North should not frighten you.”

“Irene, we don’t know what he’s like here. We don’t have our full abilities, but what if he does? I’m not…” She blew out a sigh through her nose. “I’m vulnerable here.”

Irene turned to watch her carefully. “It’s not a good feeling, is it?”

“No, it’s not. And the worst part is for years I was blissfully unaware of just how vulnerable. Then my memories came back, and I felt so damn  _ weak _ . Ironic since I’m still stronger than any human I’ve encountered.”

“Logically, if our abilities are diminished, then his should be, too.”

“And if not?”

“Then we’ll call the police.”

Teresa stared at her then burst into laughter. “Okay, sure. We’ll call the police on an Awakened Being.” 

“Do you have a better idea?”

“No, I can’t say I do. It’s just funny to put our two worlds together like that. Like, can you imagine?” She lowered her voice in a parody of a police officer. “‘Sorry sir, you’ll have to come with us. Please put away your literal knife hands so we can put you in the squad car.’”

Irene pressed a hand against her lips to stifle her chuckle, which Teresa took as encouragement.

“‘Ma’am,’” she continued. “‘I know this is your awakened form, but we still have to take you in for public indecency. Yes, I understand they do not sell clothes in size 15X. Ma’am, please do not eat the officers.’”

Irene’s snort earned a bigger grin from Teresa.

“‘Dispatch, Rigardo is on a rampage. Can someone please send some catnip and a ball of string? Yes, the giant one in the back room.’”

“Stop,” Irene finally said, unable to contain her laughter any longer. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you love me.” Teresa’s grin faded as she realized what she had said. “I mean...”

“I do,” Irene said, also growing serious. “I do love you, Teresa.”

“Even after everything?”

“Yes. Even after everything.” She tilted her head to look at Teresa. It was not the new, exciting passion she’d felt before her memories returned. It was the old, settled sort of love that came from a lifetime of familiarity. “We’re different here, but still the same at our cores. I loved you before, and I love you now.” She gestured at the road before them. “And if we get eaten by an Awakened Being, then at least I was able to say that.”

“I love you very much, Irene. I will do better this time.”

Irene just nodded. “And I promise I won’t try to kill you this time.”

“As if you could.”

“You know, we should spar when we get a chance. See what our strength is.” Before, she had given up her life as a warrior, sacrificed her arm to Clare with no intention of ever picking up her sword again. Now, though, she felt a drive inside her to find out what they could do.

“Do you just have some claymores lying around?”

“I can buy some.”

“And if I accidentally cut off your arm? You can’t just reattach it here. I mean, the doctors can,” Teresa amended after some thought. “But it wouldn’t work as well.”

Irene rolled her left shoulder, frowning. “I’ll buy practice swords. And protective gear. And I don’t believe you could ever accidentally cut me anywhere. You’re too good for that.”

“If you really want to do this, then I’ll agree. But just know, I think it’s a bad idea.”

“It’s just for my own knowledge,” Irene insisted. “I don’t actually plan on fighting anyone.”

Teresa did not look convinced, but she was soon distracted by the mansion looming on the hill top before them. 

“Damn, how much money does he have?”

“As much as you or me,” Irene said, leaning forward to see better. “I don’t see a security system. No fence, no gate. No guards.”

“I don’t like it.” Teresa leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

“I don’t either, but we came all this way. I’m not going back empty handed.”

“Jesus, okay.” Teresa turned the car up the long, winding drive, cursing every time the tires slipped on the fresh snow.

There was a large circle drive in front of the house, with a frozen fountain at the center. The figure in the middle of the fountain was a centaur, and Irene pursed her lips.

“That’s not promising.”

“We can still turn around,” Teresa said hopefully. 

As Irene contemplated this, the door to the mansion opened, and an old man walked out onto the porch. He waved at them, and Irene pushed open her door, standing behind it as some sort of shield.

“Hello,” the man called. “I don’t usually take visitors, but you two...well, I do think we have much to discuss.”

“My mom is going to kill me if I get eaten,” Teresa muttered as she got out of the car. 

Glancing at each other, she and Irene cautiously approached the man. At this distance, Irene could see he was probably in his eighties or even nineties, bent over with age and leaning heavily on a cane. It was impossible to tell how tall he would have been in his prime. 

“Come closer, please. I don’t think I know either of you, but my eyesight isn’t what it used to be.” 

When they were at the steps of the porch, the man smiled and nodded. “As I thought. You are both strangers to me. Allow me to introduce myself. My name here is Isley White, but you may know me better as the White Silver King.”

Irene took a step back, her body instinctively turning in a defensive position. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Teresa’s hand clench, as if looking for a sword to grasp.

“Oh, no need for that,” Isley said pleasantly. “I assure you, you are in no danger here. I haven’t fed on humans or Claymores in this world. I have no appetite for it anymore.”

“You knew we were warriors,” Irene said, keeping her stance. “How?”

“I felt you. Don’t worry, you’ll learn. Please, do come inside out of the cold. I’ll put on some tea.” He beckoned to them.

“Well?” Teresa asked Irene softly.

“We go inside and keep our fingers crossed.” Irene gathered her courage and started up the steps after Isley, taking in the opulence of the large columns, the railing, the gargoyles on the roof. “Your home is beautiful,” she said cautiously as Isley took them into a large sitting room. 

“Thank you. I’ve spent my life cultivating this place.” He turned to speak to a maid who appeared. “Please fetch some tea for my guests, my dear.”

“Of course, Mr. White.” She gave him a curtsey and left. 

“Please, have a seat,” Isley said, gingerly lowering himself in a chair. They followed, though Irene was still on edge. “Now, tell me, how long have you remembered your past lives?”

“Oh, um...about five years,” Teresa said, frowning.

“Three weeks, give or take.” Had it really been so little time? It felt like an eternity. 

Isley raised his brows. “Only three weeks? Did you have any inclination before that? Hallucinations? Dreams?”

Irene nodded. “Yes. Both. Since I was a teenager. I was prescribed medication to suppress them.”

“When I was young, the treatment was a permanent stay at an asylum. You’re lucky to have been born in this time.”

“You seem to have done well for yourself,” Teresa said. 

“Family money. One of the reasons I was able to stay out of an asylum long enough to figure out what I was.”

“An Awakened Being.”

“Not anymore,” he said, face closing off. “When we came here, things were different. I did not crave human flesh anymore, and I have lived with my shame. I cannot change what I was or what I did. In this world, I can only move forward.” He gave them a tight smile. “I assume you are here because you saw the paintings.”

“Yes,” Irene said slowly. She kept expecting an attack at any moment, and she felt exposed without her sword. “I found pictures of Luciela of the South and Wild Horse Octavia in a gallery. We’re trying to track down the artist to learn more. But perhaps you can answer some questions for us.”

“I will answer what I can. But first, I would ask to know more about you. When were you warriors? What were your ranks? Did you have titles?”

“I’m Teresa. Teresa of the Faint Smile. I was ranked Number One, like you. I gained that position a few years after Luciela awakened.”

“Ah, Teresa.” He studied her for a moment. “You must not have Awakened. I would have known.”

“No. I was killed by another warrior after deserting.” She lifted her chin. “Actually, I was killed by Priscilla. I believe you knew her after she awakened.”

“Ah yes, I see now. When I knew Priscilla, she did not remember her life as a Claymore. I did not know how she came to be.” He turned his eyes to Irene. “And you. I assume you were a high rank, as well?”

“I was called Quicksword Irene. I was Number Two at the same time Teresa was Number One.”

“Yes, I felt the power on you two. Even in this world, we radiate energy, and can access it to an extent, if you know how.”

“But not awaken?” Teresa leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and Irene had to take a moment to realize the absurdity of the situation. They were having tea with Isley of the North, the White Silver King. Just sitting in his mansion, calmly talking about their past lives. 

“No, not that I have experienced.” He took just a moment too long to answer, and Irene felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “It’s as though our powers are a part of us now instead of an invader trying to wrest control. We live longer than humans, but we do still age.” He held out his arms. “As you can see.”

“Do you know how many of us there are?” Irene asked, shrugging off her unease. He was an old man, nothing more. Not a threat. 

“No. I have not sought out any of our kind. I only know of the ones who find me. Not everyone wants to remember. Some spend their lives here blissfully ignorant of our pasts.”

Teresa perked up, and Irene knew she was thinking of Clare. “So it’s not inevitable that someone will regain their memories?”

“No. I don’t think so, though I don’t know why some do and some don’t.” He took a sip of his tea, looking very much like someone’s grandfather. “I will be frank with you. I don’t have the answers you’re likely seeking. I do not like to dwell on that life, for obvious reasons. I was given a second chance, and I embraced it. But I do know who can help you.”

They looked at each other. “And who would that be?” Irene asked.

“Her name is Rafaela. She was-”

“Luciela’s sister,” Irene said. “The one who was supposed to hold her soul-link.”

“Ah, you’re well informed.”

“Well, she had been sent to kill me.” Even if it had been a half hearted attempt, even if Irene was certain Rafaela had purposefully spared her. Clare had informed her of the rest much later. 

“I’ve lost track of her over the years,” Isley continued. “But the paintings are hers. I believe she’s been in the world the longest. She is very old, but she was alive the last time I checked. I have a few more of her paintings, if you would like to see. And something else I believe might interest you.” He tried to stand, rocking in his chair first to get leverage. Irene got up and offered her arm. “Oh, thank you, dear. I must say, aging is not all it’s cracked up to be. Though it is better than the alternative.”

Irene helped him stand and kept a hold on his arm as he led them into the hall, where paintings lined the walls. Teresa’s eyes widened as she followed them.

“Wow, this is some collection.”

“The art in this world is just so beautiful,” Isley said. “The things people can create when they don’t live in fear of youma attacks.” He took them to the end of the hall where there were several more portraits of warriors. “Europa, Agatha, Chronos, Lars.” He named them each.

“They all awakened in the other world,” Teresa said. 

“Yes, and none of them remember. That seems to be Rafaela’s subject of choice. But, come. There is something more important.” 

He opened the door door at the end of the hall, and Irene gasped.

Hanging from the walls were dozens and dozens of claymores, each with a unique emblem. 

“Are these…”

“Yes. They’re ours. Or, some of ours. I’ve collected every one I’ve come across.”

“May I?” Irene asked.

“Of course. If yours are here, please take them.”

“Where did you find them?” Irene looked over the one closest to her. She did not recognize the emblem. “Why are they here?”

“It seems they came with us. It’s nothing I can explain. But they have been found all over the world, and I did not want humans to have them. Please, take them.”

“I don’t know if we should,” Teresa said, looking at the swords apprehensively. “I’m done with that life.”

“Oh, but I do think you should reconsider.”

Something in Isley’s voice made Irene turn to look at him. His body was trembling, his back starting to curve unnaturally, and that long forgotten sensation spread through her gut. The sensation, the ability that made warriors so uniquely able to hunt youma. 

“Isley?”

“I was not completely honest with you earlier. I’m sorry.” His voice had lowered, turning gravely. 

“What do you mean?” But Irene already knew exactly what he was talking about. 

“Awakening is not entirely impossible here,” he said, head bent forward. “Though it must be purposeful. I was foolish enough to make the same mistake twice. Again, I thought I could control it.” 

“Irene,” Teresa said in warning, already backing away, her arm outstretched to try and shield Irene. 

“I’ve looked for someone for a while now who would do this for me. No one wants to kill an old man. No one else would have been strong enough, anyway. Except Priscilla. But she had other plans. She doesn’t know you remember. She wanted me to be around for you to find. She’s been waiting for you, Teresa. She has...unfinished...business.”

Irene back peddled, trying to get away from him as his body morphed and grew. His awakened form was not as large as in the old world, but it still filled the room.

“I’ll hold back as much as I can,” Isley said. “What I said was true. I have not consumed human flesh in this world. The urge did not come until Priscilla showed me how to awaken. But now, I am so hungry. I can no longer suppress it. I need you to stop it. It will be easier for you to kill me if I look like this instead of an old man. Please. A final favor. End me.”

There was no time to think, no time to worry about whether or not she could or should do this. Irene grabbed the nearest claymore to her and hefted it in front of her. It was heavier than she remembered, and her muscles didn’t know how to yield it with such precision anymore. 

“I told you this was a bad idea!” Teresa called to her, her own hands already clasped around the hilt of a sword. 

“Please hurry,” Isley said. “I can only contain my humanity for so long.” He bowed his head, giving them a good shot at his neck. “If you miss, I will not be able to stop myself from fighting you.”

The sword was clumsy in her hands, much heavier and unwieldy than the fencing foils she’d commanded in school, and Irene wished she had worn better shoes. Her boots were made to be stylish, not practical. They certainly were not made for a sword fight.

“This is such bullshit,” Teresa said as she looked at her sword. They both seemed hesitant to actually follow through. There were so many more consequences here, lives that could be ruined. This was a police investigation waiting to happen. 

“Your window is closing.” Isley’s arm was starting to morph into a sword, a mirror of the joke Teresa had made earlier that day. “I’m losing control.”

With a growl, Teresa rushed Isley, but her swing was blocked by his arm.

“Ah, you’re very slow. I expected more of a Number One.”

“Irene, I’m going to need your help,” Teresa said, pulling back her arm to swing again. 

Though it had been years and years, even in the old world, since they had fought together, Irene’s body responded. She lept, meaning to arc over Isley to bring her sword down on his neck, but her more human body could not give her the height. 

With a pained grunt, she slammed into his side, stumbling in her heeled shoes as she landed. He turned to slash at her, but she ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding cutting herself on her sword. Her body felt like it was moving through molasses. She could remember how devastatingly fast she used to be, but her new body could only move at a fraction of the speed. 

Teresa had kicked off her heels and was now fighting barefoot, so small next to Isley. In the old world, size had not mattered. Priscilla had been the most powerful awakened being, though her awakened form was relatively small compared to the Abyssal Ones. Teresa had killed awakened beings much larger than herself without breaking a sweat. Irene had done the same. 

But now, her human instincts told her that Isley was too large, too powerful, for her to hope to defeat. The fear that had been born the day Priscilla took her arm threatened to overwhelm her as she recovered her footing and launched an attack at Isley’s flank, causing him to turn and expose his front. Teresa managed to cut deep into his right arm. 

To Irene’s dismay, the arm started to heal. Perhaps not as quickly as in the old world, but fast enough that she feared they were in real trouble. 

“It must be a beheading,” Isley said even as he swung his uninjured arm at Teresa, knocking her to the side. She grunted as her shoulder hit the ground, and Irene took the opportunity to cut into Isley’s side, giving Teresa time to recover. 

The Abyssal One kicked out, his hoof catching Irene in her stomach, knocking the breath out of her. His attention was on her long enough for Teresa to finally land a blow to his neck.

Isley’s head rolled towards Irene, and she felt bile rise in her throat. She had seen worse, so much worse, as a warrior, but her new body was not as equipped to cope with the horrors of battle. 

“Thank you,” Isley said, eyes closing with a smile. 

Teresa drove her sword through his head, through his brain, breathing hard as she looked down at his corpse.

“What the actual fuck is going on?”

“We can still awaken,” Irene said, pushing herself up. The damage done by Isley’s hoof was already starting to heal, though she knew she would be sore in the morning. She looked around the room at all the swords, all the blood, purple and stinking. She wiped a hand across her face, realizing too late that she was smearing blood across her cheek. “Oh my God, we killed him.”

“Yeah, what other choice did we have?”

“Teresa, this isn’t just some random youma! We weren’t given a job to do. This is a wealthy art collector! People will miss him.” She looked around the room, frantic. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t fucking know, Irene! I didn’t think farther than not getting stabbed!” Teresa brandished the sword, and Irene did not recognize the symbol on it. “Jesus, he was holding back and he was like a thousand years old, and I was still too slow!  _ You _ said I didn’t have anything to worry about!”

“I didn’t think he would actually have his power! Not like this!” She dropped the sword, running a hand through her hair, leaving blood there, as well. “Shit, shit shit shit. People know we were here. I need to call my lawyer, or the police or something.”

“The police? And tell them what? That we’re reincarnated warriors from another world and we had to kill him because he was a monster? That will go over well! I guess we can try to set up an insanity plea!”

“I don’t know what else you want us to do!” Irene gestured to the body. “Look at him! Look at the blood, Teresa!”

“I fucking see it. And I can smell it, too.”

“We can say that we came to see him and found him like this, or-or that he attacked us and we had no choice to defend ourselves. And then we play dumb.”

“And how do we explain knowing what to do with a sword?”

“I was an excellent fencer in school, and I’m sure you’ve learned some sword play for a role, right? Right?” Her mind was working in overdrive, and her heart slammed against her ribs. So hard, she was sure it would break. 

“Oh my God.” The voice at the door jerked Irene’s attention. The maid from earlier stood in the entrance, her hands over her mouth. 

“Oh, fuck,” Teresa muttered behind her, and the maid’s eyes widened.

“You’ve killed him,” the maid said, her voice high and thin, and Irene started to approach her, hands raised peacefully.

“It’s not what it looks like,” she started, then cursed herself. Of course it was what it looked like. “He...he wasn’t himself. He attacked us. We had no choice.”

“He said this might happen, but I never thought…”

Irene’s brows snapped together. “He said this could happen?”

The maid was shaking as she surveyed the room, the blood, the corpse, and Irene feared she would bolt. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Teresa lift her sword again. Irene shot her a glare, shaking her head. 

“He said...he said he was different, but I didn’t understand.” The maid was dangerously close to hyperventilating, and Irene gently grabbed her hands.

“I know this is...a lot.” Which was a gross understatement. The adrenaline was still pumping through her. “We just had questions for him. We didn’t mean for this to happen.” How could they have known?

“You need to leave,” the maid said, wrenching her hands from Irene’s grasp. 

“Please, let us explain.”

“You can’t be here. You have to go.”

“Look, we just need to-”

“I must call Mr. White’s lawyer. The estate must be settled.” The maid shook her head. “This...this will need to be cleaned up. You can’t be here when the lawyer gets here. It complicates things.”

“Are you going to call the police?” Teresa asked.

“They wouldn’t understand,” the maid said, though Irene knew she did not understand, either. “This was a private matter. It will be handled.”

“Then we should go,” Irene said. “Isley wanted us to take our swords.”

The maid nodded, and Irene cautiously approached the closest wall of claymores, glancing over the emblems. She saw Rosemary’s, Hysteria’s, Noel’s, Sophia’s, many she did not recognize. She had to go halfway around the room before she saw hers. Right below it sat Teresa’s, as well.

“Oh.” The moment her hand closed over the hilt, it felt right, sitting better in her grasp than the one she had used against Isley, though she knew there was no physical difference between the two. 

Teresa reached around her to take her own sword. “Well...I guess we should take these.”

“If Priscilla is out there, waiting for you…” Irene swallowed, unsure what they could do. “If she’s awakened, then she might be preying on innocent people.”

“I don’t know. She’s an actress. People follow her.”

“So?”

“So, wouldn’t someone have noticed if she was eating people? I’ve met her before. She seems...sweet.”

“Isley said she was the one who showed him how to awaken.” Irene glanced at his body. “Which means, she’s no longer Priscilla. She’s a monster, and she needs to be...taken care of.”

“By us?”

“Who else?”

“If you didn’t notice, Irene, neither of us are what we used to be. The only reason we didn’t die just now is because Isley didn’t want us to.” She lifted her sword. “This is heavy. My swings were slow and clumsy, and you couldn’t even jump over him. How are we supposed to kill Priscilla, who probably is vastly more powerful than him?”

“He said we could access our powers. We just have to learn how.”

“No.” Teresa frowned intently at her sword. “No, I don’t want to.”

“Teresa-”

“No! No, I have a life here. A good life.” She looked up at Irene, features twisted in pain, tossing the sword to the ground. “I have a family, a career,  _ you _ . I finally have you, Irene. And I don’t have to worry about being executed if anyone finds out! I don’t have to hide you, or worry that I’m going to receive your black card, or that you’ll be killed on an assignment! I get to live and love and grow old and raise Clare. I have everything I ever wanted. I am not going to throw that away.”

“We have a responsibility, Teresa.”

“No, we don’t! Last time, we didn’t have a choice. Here, I make my own decisions. I have a choice! I have to have a choice!” Her voice cracked, body trembling. “If I don’t have a choice, then what’s the point?”

Irene didn’t know what to say. She carefully put down her sword and stepped over to Teresa. 

“Hey, okay. Okay.” She pulled Teresa into a strong embrace. “You have a choice.”

“I don’t want to fight,” Teresa said, her face pressed into Irene’s hair. “I don’t want to be a warrior again.”

Irene just held her, unused to the position in either life. Teresa rarely needed or accepted comfort, and Irene had never seen her like this. The Teresa she knew and remembered was always up for a fight, always ready to take on the biggest challenge, always so infuriatingly cocky. But this Teresa, the Teresa with black hair and kind eyes, was no longer a warrior. 

“Miss,” the maid said from the door. “Please, you must go.”

Irene released Teresa and bent down to pick up both their swords. “I...Is there anything we can do?” It was ridiculous to ask, she knew, but what else was there to do?

“No. It’s best if you go now.” She seemed to have gathered herself, and she handed Irene a folded piece of paper. “The information on Miss Rafaela. Mr. Isley asked that you have it.”

“Thank you,” Irene said, putting the paper in her pocket. She glanced at Teresa who still looked shell-shocked. “Teresa, we need to go.”

“Leave the swords.”

“I can’t. We don’t have to use them, but I can’t leave them here.”

Teresa closed her eyes for a moment, then brushed past Irene to head back into the hallway. “Fine. Just don’t expect me to carry mine.”

Sighing, Irene held both swords awkwardly in her hands, following Teresa. She felt the urge to stay, to figure out what to do about the body, but Teresa was already trudging through the halls and out the front door. She practically threw herself into the car while Irene struggled to arrange the swords.

“It’s not coming home with me,” Teresa said as Irene buckled up.

“Okay. I’ll find a place for it.” Her family had property outside the city that no one used. 

“I’m not going to go galavanting after Priscilla and leave Clare at home.”

“I understand.”

Teresa gripped the steering wheel, headed for the interstate. “But you want to.”

“Do I want to confront Priscilla, the strongest creature I ever encountered, the creature who maimed and almost killed me? Of course not. I told you, I never escaped the terror I felt that day. I still dream about it.” Irene had to suppress a shudder. 

“But?”

“But, the fact remains, if she’s out there hurting people, we’re the only ones who know. And you’re right, this isn’t something we can tell the police.”

“Irene, please.” Teresa’s voice was desperate. 

“You don’t have to come. But it was my fault she awakened in the old world. I should be the one to...to put her to rest.” If it could not be Clare, then it should be Irene. It was her responsibility, one she had run from before. But now, she had to be brave. 

“Are you insane? You have never been one to overestimate your abilities. You know you’re not a match for her. I may not have seen her awaken, but I felt her power before.”

“You know, I said something similar to Clare in the other world. But that did not stop her. Of course, I don’t have your power inside me. Nor her fire. Still, I think I should see this through.” She felt the same certainty as when she had decided to cut off her single remaining arm for Clare a lifetime ago. 

“Dammit, Irene, don’t be so stupid!”

“Are you afraid?”

“Of course I’m afraid!” Teresa slammed her hand on the wheel. “When I picked up that sword, it felt so wrong, and for the very first time, I was afraid I wasn’t going to win. He wasn’t even trying, and I could barely land a blow on him. I can’t face Priscilla, Irene. And neither can you.”

“You can do what you think is best,” Irene said cautiously. “But I am going to find Rafaela, and I am going to figure out how to access my power. Isley said it was possible. And I will train until my sword is no longer heavy. And I will confront Priscilla. Because when I picked up  _ my _ sword, the one with  _ my _ emblem, it felt so very right.”

“Then you’re going to die.”

“Maybe. But I’ve already gotten five chances at life, by my count. I should have died when my family was killed by Youma. I should have died when we fought Hysteria. I should have died when Priscilla awakened. And I should have died when Rafaela found me. Now I’m here, on my fifth life. I’m starting to think that survival is my special technique rather than the Quicksword.”

“Don’t you dare joke about this.”

“I’m not joking, Teresa. I know this is dangerous and that my chances are next to zero.”

“Then why are you insisting on trying?”

“Because I failed her before, as a Captain, as a leader. I failed you, and Noel, and Sophia. I failed my duty, but that doesn’t have to be my story here.”

Teresa cursed under her breath, glaring at the road ahead of them. “This is ridiculous, Irene.”

“I know. I wish I could explain it better.”

“Please don’t do this to me.” Teresa’s voice was small, pleading.

“I’m sorry. I am. I don’t want to leave you or Clare. But I can’t just ignore this.”

“Why confront her? We don’t even know anything for certain. Can’t you just...investigate? You’re supposed to be the rational one. Not the one who rushes headlong into danger without a plan.”

“I have a plan, Teresa. I will find Rafaela, and see what she knows. I’m going to train until I am strong. I’m not going to hop on a plane to L.A tomorrow and seek out Priscilla. I’m not being rash.”

“No, just stupid.”

“Teresa, please.”

“No, I’m allowed to be upset by this! I just don’t understand why you’re still blaming yourself for all of this!”

“Because she was a child, and I was supposed to protect her! I was supposed to see the instability and keep her from going too far. But I was distracted. I was distracted by her power, and I was distracted by you. Now, it’s ruined her life in two worlds, and the lives of countless others. I was a coward before, but I will not be one again.”

“Wanting to survive is not cowardice.”

“No, but letting others die when I could perhaps prevent it is.”

Teresa pressed her lips into a thin line, and focused on the road. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Fine.” Irene crossed her arms and leaned her head back against the headrest. 

The drive back to the city was long and silent, and Irene went home to an empty bed. 

That night, she dreamed of Priscilla, of the girl she had been, of the childhood she had been robbed of. And Irene could only hope she was not making a fatal mistake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, another warrior emerges, and Irene and Teresa come to an understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a hot second, but I have not abandoned this fic! As always, a big thank you to my beta, shelter. This chapter fought me, and I did not have the energy to make all of the changes you suggested. I hope it's all right anyway!

It was two days before Irene saw Teresa again. Two days of her wondering how to talk about this with her therapist. She needed to work through the trauma of killing a man in this world, but nothing she could say would make any sense at all. The only person she could talk to was Teresa, and things were tense between them once again. 

So when Teresa finally texted her to meet for dinner, Irene’s relief was almost overwhelming, and she waited apprehensively for Teresa to pick her up. 

They had just gotten in the car and were pulling into the street when Irene’s phone buzzed. She frowned when she saw the name.

She answered quickly. Maybe it was an emergency at work. She may have been on sabbatical, but she wouldn’t let the firm founder without her. 

_ “ _ Flora?”

_ “Ms. Winters, I’m...I’m sorry to bother you.” _

Flora’s voice was cold and hollow, and Irene knew immediately something was not right. “Flora? Flora, what’s wrong?”

_ “I um, there was no one else to call.” _

“Flora, are you in trouble?” Her mind was racing with possibilities, dread balling in the pit of her stomach.

_ “I...No? Yes? Maybe. I don’t...I don’t know.” _

Irene ignored Teresa’s questioning look. “Flora, tell me what’s wrong.”

_ “Ms. Winters, I…” _ There was a long pause.  _ “Do you remember?” _

“Remember?”

_ “Do you remember what you are?” _

Irene’s eyes grew wide, and she hoped she was wrong. “Flora...” She took a deep breath. “Flora, what rank were you?”

Teresa looked at her so sharply the car jerked. Cursing, she returned her attention to the road, but Irene could tell she was now listening intently.

_ “Number Eight.” _

“Okay.” Irene took a deep breath. “What’s your address? I’ll come to you, and we can talk.”

_ “Galatea doesn’t remember,” _ Flora said, and Irene finally put two and two together. Galatea’s name sounded so familiar because that was the name of Clare’s friend. The one who destroyed her eyes to become a nun. The former Number Three with the incredible yoki sensing abilities.  _ “But I do. I remember everything, I remember fighting, and...and dying and, and I knew, I think I always knew that you were like me, and I don’t know what to do now.” _

“It’s going to be all right, Flora. Everything is going to be okay.” For once, she actually believed the words. Flora would not have to flounder like she had. “Teresa and I are going to come over and help you.”

_ “Teresa?” _

“Yes, she’s...she’s one of us, too.”

_ “Teresa of the Faint Smile?”  _ Irene could hear the awe in her voice, and a dim part of her was proud that she was with a warrior of such standing, however ridiculous of a thing that was to be proud of. 

“Yes.”

_ “Oh. Oh my God.” _

“I know. Flora, I know what you’re going through. We both do. I know that you’re scared and confused right now. I don’t have all the answers, but you are not alone.” Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to make sense of the situation. Flora was a warrior. Her suspicions had been correct. 

But Flora was not familiar to Irene, which meant she was probably from a later generation. Maybe even Clare’s. Irene tried to wrack her brain, thinking over every detail Clare had told her in their old life. Unlike Irene, Clare had met so many warriors, made so many friends. Was Flora one of them? A name that had faded away in Irene’s memory? 

_ “I feel like I’m losing my mind.” _

“That will pass,” Irene said, trying to be as gentle as possible. It was not her strong suit, but she cared for Flora and wanted to help however possible. “And you’ll learn to make sense of everything. I will help you. Just tell us where to go.”

Flora gave Irene her address, and Teresa put it into the GPS.

“We’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

_ “I...Yes.” _

“All right. I will tell you about my time as the Number Two warrior.” Irene started her story, trying to keep her voice steady and calm as Teresa drove them to Flora’s apartment. 

When Flora opened the door, her face was streaked with tears and she was pale and shaky. 

“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Irene glanced over at Teresa. “This is Teresa. Teresa, this is Flora.”

“Hi,” Teresa said with a kind smile. “I’m Teresa Blackwell.” Her smile soured. “Or, Teresa of the Faint Smile, I guess.”

“I um, I’ve heard a lot about you from Ms. Winters.”

Teresa glanced at Irene, brow raised. “You have? I didn’t think Irene was so chatty.”

Flora looked horrified for a moment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s fine, Flora,” Irene said, shooting Teresa a glare. “She’s teasing.”

“Sorry,” Teresa said with a shrug. “I’m just ‘ _ like that _ ,’ as Irene says.” It was said with more bite than usual, and Irene wished Flora’s timing had been better. Though, she supposed it was better timing than Christmas morning. 

Irene suppressed a sigh and turned her attention back to Flora. “Let’s sit, and you can tell us everything from the beginning.”

Flora took them into the small living room, where Irene and Teresa sat on an old couch. Flora settled in across from them, tense as she folded her hands in her lap.

“I’ve known something was wrong for a while now. Maybe always. But, um, the past couple of months, it’s gotten worse. A lot worse.” Flora passed a hand over her eyes, looking far older than her years. 

“Hallucinations?” Irene asked.

“Something like it. Just...stray thoughts and memories that were wrong, that didn’t match up to my experiences. Those, I could mostly ignore. But it started getting worse. I would look at Galatea and see her in armor with a sword on her back.” She closed her eyes, a hand running through her hair. “Then yesterday I...I got a call from that gallery we went to. They had another painting, and they wanted to know if you were interested, so I had them fax a picture. I didn’t want to bother you with it unless it was like the others.”

“And?”

Flora looked up at Irene, helplessness in her eyes. “And it was of a woman I’ve never met in this life, but I knew her name immediately. I saw the...the emblem on her sword, and it came to me. Ophelia.”

Teresa looked at Irene with concern when she started. “Ophelia?”

“Yes.” Flora frowned. “Do you know her? She came after your time.”

“I met her, yes. Once.” And caused yet another awakening. The guilt sat heavy in Irene’s stomach. At the time, she had been loath to kill another warrior, no matter the situation. In hindsight, death would have been more kind. 

“I feared her more than I feared awakened beings,” Flora said with a shudder. “When I saw her face, everything came back. I tried to ignore it, to rationalize it. I slept on it, but nothing was better today. And I...I thought about the research you’ve been doing. I thought you had to be one of us. So, I...I called you.”

Irene nodded. “I know that this is very difficult. I only regained my memories a few weeks ago. That’s why I wanted to go to that gallery in the first place. I’ve been doing research. So believe me, I am very aware of what you’re going through.”

“I’ve known for years,” Teresa said when Flora’s eyes turned to her, expectant, “but I remember the confusion, the fear. I had no one to talk to. But you do.”

“Years? Then...then you knew when you met Ms. Winters?” Flora looked between them, and Irene wished for a moment that she was not so perceptive. 

Teresa thought about her answer, chin resting in her hand as she leaned forward. Irene appreciated that despite what they had just gone through, Teresa was doing her best to help Flora. “Yes. Irene and I...have a long history. I wanted to meet her here. As soon as my memories came back, I started searching. But there are a lot of Irenes in the world. When I finally found her, she didn’t remember me. I...I found that I couldn’t let her go.” She looked to Irene, her dark eyes soft. 

“I don’t know what to do about Galatea,” Flora said. “I barely knew her before. We met here by accident, like I was drawn to her. I couldn’t get her out of my head. I thought it was because she was beautiful and charming. But now, I’m worried that I just want to be with her because she’s one of us. Because she’s something familiar. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

Irene stiffened. She had not expected to be asked for relationship advice, and she looked to Teresa helplessly. Teresa reached over and gave her hand a brief squeeze, keeping her eyes on Flora.

“Our relationships in the past do not dictate what we do here. I am with Irene here because I love her. It’s not just because we had a relationship before. We’re building something new, something better. Do you love Galatea?”

“Yes.” The answer came without hesitation, quick and sure and firm. 

“Then you should be with her.” 

“But what do I tell her? How can I be with her if she doesn’t remember?” 

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Teresa’s smile was sad and strained. “I asked myself the same thing. I didn’t know what to do when it was clear Irene was remembering. But I loved her, and I knew...I knew she loved me. And I knew I had to make it work.”

Irene’s cheeks burned in embarrassment, but she let Teresa continue, knowing it was the best thing for Flora. The girl was no longer just her assistant, and lines had already been crossed. 

“The point is,” Teresa continued, “that you can’t force someone to remember their past. Either she will, or she won’t. If she doesn’t...well, your relationship is entirely in this world. Focus on that. And if she does, then you will be able to help her.” Teresa nodded to herself, as if surprised and pleased with her own advice. 

“How many of us are there?”

“I don’t know,” Irene said, feeling more and more sympathy for Teresa. It was horribly frustrating not to have answers for someone who looked so lost. She could imagine now what Teresa had gone through as they built this relationship, as she realized Irene was slowly remembering their past lives. “But I’m starting to think every warrior ever created is here or has been here. But I don’t know how or why we are in this world. We’re trying to find out.”

“What about our abilities?”

“We have them, or some part of them. It is harder to access yoki here, but apparently not impossible. We are searching for Rafaela.” Irene tilted her head in contemplation. “You probably knew her as Number Five.” Irene realized that if Flora knew Ophelia and Galatea, then she had to have been a warrior at the same time as Clare. 

“Yes, but I didn’t really know her. She didn’t spend time with the rest of us.” The revelation did not surprise Irene. 

“We believe she’s the artist behind those paintings and that she knows more about our situation than anyone else. It’s part of why I’ve taken time off work.” Irene regarded her assistant. “And, of course, if you need time, I will approve it. Or, if you want to leave, I will help however I can.”

“I don’t know what I want to do yet.” Flora bit her lip. “I stayed with you because I did feel a kinship. It just felt..right to work for you. Like something coming into focus. Now, I know why.”

Irene begin metally preparing a checklist of what to look for in a new assistant, dreading the interview process. She would never find someone as good as Flora. She knew that in her heart. “Whatever you decide, I will support you.”

Flora nodded. “I’ll make a decision quickly.”

“No, take your time. This life is the one that matters now. You shouldn’t make any decisions too rashly.” Like storming out of a family Christmas at your girlfriend’s parents’ home. “Though I don’t know what I would do without you. You keep me sane at work.”

Flora blushed, a smile forming on her lips for the first time since they had arrived. “Thank you, Ms. Winters.”

“Please, it’s just Irene. Especially now.”

Flora shook her head emphatically. “I couldn’t. It’s not proper.”

“Well, all right. Whatever makes you comfortable.” Beside her, Teresa looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh, and Irene had to glare at her. “Flora, is there anything you want to ask us?”

She looked at Teresa, hesitating. “Um...there was a warrior I met whose name was Clare. And I know that’s your daughter’s name. I didn’t know if...if they were...”

The smile dropped from Teresa’s face. “Yes. Clare...Clare was a warrior. In the old world, she was a child I met along my travels. I...I died protecting her.” It was not the entire truth, but Irene understood. Flora did not need to know the messy details, and Teresa did not want to relive them. She could only imagine what Teresa’s dreams had been before she remembered her past life. They would have been all the more horrifying for involving the child. 

“I’m sorry,” Flora said, voice heavy with an understanding that could only be gained by experiencing a similar pain. “I died in battle with her. The Organization sent us to the North to fight an army of Awakened Beings. I was...killed by Rigardo.” She shuddered, and Irene wondered what it must feel like to remember your own death. Teresa did not talk about it. “I don’t know what happened after that, but I considered Clare a friend and a comrade.”

“Only seven survived,” Irene told her gently, knowing the guilt a Captain felt when she was unable to protect her team. The same guilt she had lived with for two lifetimes now. “Clare was one of them. The survivors deserted, like I did. They let the Organization believe they were dead. Then, seven years later, they reemerged. Ultimately, they took down the Organization and liberated the remaining warriors.”

“Oh.” Flora blinked in surprise. “I...I didn’t think such a thing was possible.”

“Nor did I until Clare told me. We met before she went North. When it was all over, she came back to me.”

Flora’s brows creased as her eyes swept from side to side in thought. “Was it your arm that she carried?”

“Yes. I encountered Clare during an altercation with Ophelia. I saved her, and when it became apparent that she was searching for revenge for Teresa, I gave her my arm so she could perform the Quicksword.” So she could avenge the woman they had both loved. 

Really, Irene did not know what she had been thinking at the time. All she had known was that the fire in Clare’s heart made her think anything was possible. It had driven her to give up her arm, to face Rafaela with no regrets for exposing her location. And apparently, that same fire had indeed brought justice to not only Teresa but every one of them who had been wronged by the Organization. Maybe their existence in this new world was the universe’s way of giving reparations. 

“Oh, that does make sense now,” Flora said. “I knew it couldn’t have been her arm. It was obvious to anyone who looked.”

“You should know,” Irene said, “Galatea also deserted. The last I heard of her, she was alive and well.”

Flora looked away from them quickly, and Irene saw her wipe at her eyes. “Oh, good. I’m glad.”

They stayed with Flora for a couple of hours, telling her all they knew and answering all her questions. Irene was reluctant to leave her, but Flora insisted she would be fine, that she needed the time to herself, and it was getting late. Teresa needed to get back home to Clare.

Back in the car, Teresa reached for Irene’s hand and held it tightly. “I love you,” she said. 

“I know.”

“Seeing Flora like that...I wonder how many of us have had to go through this alone. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“I’m sorry you had to.” If she could, she would have taken that pain from Teresa, would have traded anything for it. 

“I’m so scared, Irene,” she admitted softly. “I’m scared of what you want to do, and I’m scared of what we might become. Fighting Isley...I’ve never felt that kind of fear in a battle. Never. And I know that he’s nothing compared to what Priscilla can do. You forget. I was there, too. I did feel her aura as we fought. I can imagine what kind of monster she awakened into, even if I did not witness it myself. What you want to do is suicide, even with your full yoki power. Please, please reconsider.” Her hand moved to Irene’s cheek, her expression raw and open, and Irene felt her heart crack open.

“Teresa…” She turned her face to kiss Teresa’s palm. “I don’t want to leave you. The fear you felt with Isley, multiply it by a thousand, and you’ll get close to what I felt the day you died. Priscilla’s awakening was...incomprehensible. The level of power was so vast, so complete. I felt like it would tear me apart from the sheer force of it. It was over so fast. I don’t want to go through that again.”

“Then why do you want to find her?”

“If she has awakened, then it is quite possible that she is hurting people, killing them.” Isley had said the desire for human flesh had returned when he awakened again. Priscilla had been turned long before him. Irene was certain Priscilla’s hunger would have returned to her, as well. “Can you stand by and do nothing? You risked everything for Clare in the old world. Don’t the people here deserve our protection, too? This time, we do it of our own free will. Not because we’re forced to.”

“I feel like you  _ are _ forcing me,” Teresa said. “Like I have to do this with you.”

“I don’t expect you to. This is my decision, and I would never force you into doing this with me.”

“But how can I say no? How can I knowingly let you walk into a situation where you’ll get yourself killed?” Teresa’s voice cracked, and she seemed to swallow a hiccup of a sob. “How can I let you face Priscilla on your own when I know what happened the last time you did that?”

Irene didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to explain the conviction she felt in her heart, the certainty that she had to do this. She did not know what to say to ease Teresa’s fear. She was fairly certain there was nothing she could say. Teresa was right. An awakened Priscilla was more than Irene’s match, far superior in every way when it came to physical ability. All Irene had going for her was her strategic mind. The one thing she excelled at more than Teresa was her ability to create and stick to a plan. And she felt like she knew enough about Priscilla, or who Priscilla had been, that she could come up with a plausible strategy for facing her. 

“I am more experienced than I was then,” she said. “I’ve faced her before, and I know what she can do. I won’t underestimate her again.”

“You could know everything about her, exactly what she’s about to do, and still not be able to defeat her! It’s hopeless, Irene. Please, please just stay with me. I only just found you. I can’t lose you again.”

Irene had never thought she would hear Teresa beg. Not in this life, not in the previous one. Not ever. The clinical part of her observed that Teresa must love her very much to be this distraught over her safety. The human part of her, though, wanted to give in, to give Teresa what she wanted. To crawl into the safety of her arms and never leave. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, steeling herself. “I don’t want to cause you more pain, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do this. I would hate myself.”

Teresa pulled away from her. “For once, Irene, can’t you just be fucking selfish?”

“Would you love me if I was?”

“I would love that you’re alive,” Teresa said, scowling. 

“But if I didn’t do this, would you think less of me?”

“Of course not.”

“I would, though. I would think less of myself. I know you don’t understand, but I see this as a chance at redemption for the mistakes I made in the old world.”

Teresa closed her eyes and rested her head back against the seat. “I can’t change your mind, can I?”

“I’m sorry, no.”

Teresa’s lips pressed together, and she was silent for a long time. Long enough that Irene started to wonder if they would sit in the parking garage forever. 

When Teresa finally opened her eyes, they were filled with determination. “Fine.”

“What?”

“Fine. I will do this with you.”

“Teresa, no.” She might have been willing to put her own life in danger, but the thought of Teresa’s life on the line caused her breath to seize. 

“I lost you before because I was afraid. I can’t do that again. You’re not the only one who feels like they have shit they need to atone for.”

“What about Clare? You said you can’t leave her, and you shouldn’t.” She couldn’t allow Clare to lose Teresa again. Not like this, not in this way. Not against Priscilla.

“You said you were going to train. Then so will I.” Teresa nodded resolutely. “I’ll train with you under one condition.”

“What?”

“We don’t go after Priscilla until I am strong enough to end her.”

Irene looked over at her. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“All right. Then we do this together.”

“Together.”

She put her hand in Teresa’s, and for a moment, she felt invincible. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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